No Shelter
by Corinne Jane
Summary: Based on the song "No Shelter" by Seether. Something goes wrong with an undercover op, Kort pays the price, now can he and Gibbs find the traitor and bring down the bad guys? This is SLASH. TRIBBS Trent/Gibbs .
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note--This is rated M for references to rape and violence. Don't like don't read. Not to mention it's slash.**

**Review please.**

"_Men, we must celebrate our good fortune." A man said jovially holding a champagne glass between his forefinger, middle finger and thumb, tipping it towards the other men sat around the circular table he continued, "I haven't had such a pleasant night in my forty years."_

_The men cheered, as they tipped their own glasses to the overly plump man. Smirks and twinkles in their own soulless eyes, their movements languid with exhaustion. Boasting of their triumph they called across the table boisterously reliving the night's excitement while others rapidly whispered plans for the next nights' excursions._

"_They won't be sending no spooks to us anymore." One man bragged loudly._

"_Not after that."_

"_It's a pity we had to let him go, he was so pretty. And tight." Another man said, smiling._

"_And he was a quiet one too. We usually get beggars." _

_The men laughed, their sick depravity growing, no one noticed the huddled and shaking form escaping._

**THREE HOURS LATER IN D.C.**

He let the three hour drive calm him, driving always had no matter what was going on; he just needed time to not think, to clear his mind of all thoughts and feelings. He was an undercover operative, he constantly had to play roles, pushing himself to the back of his mind and only letting out whom he had to play. He could make a persona just with the way he stood, with the look in his eyes and how he spoke. It was a gift, as well as a curse--there was only so much pretending one could do before reality and pretend blurred and you no longer knew who you were. He had never had that problem, mainly because he knew how to departmentalize his mind; others cracked under the pressure or went rogue, he had seen first hand what happened to agents that went down that road. He wouldn't let that happen to him.

He shut down his feelings completely, or tried too; yet something just kept bubbling up from deep inside where he had shoved all the pain. He knew he should feel traumatized, violated, angry, helpless, vulnerable, all of the above; but he felt nothing, except a tense knot of relief unwinding in his chest and a nausea that made his stomach churn. He had waited years for something like this to happen, ever since he joined the agency they had been warning him that he may get captured and tortured, that the worst things imaginable could and probably would be done to him. Yet he had somehow escaped such things for years, he had watched his fellow agents come back with scars and war stories; with missing limbs and mental illnesses. He had somehow lucked out of the pain. Until tonight that is, he knew it would catch up to him eventually, he was even preparing himself for it, but nothing could have prepared him for what had happened only five hours before. He could still feel them inside him, fidgeting he cringed instantly remembering it hurt him to move the bottom half of his body.

Something was bothering him; something deep inside, something he had pushed down for ages and couldn't recall--something he didn't want to remember. He just kept driving, driving until he could remember nothing, driving until he had trouble recalling his own name. He didn't want to delve into the feeling that was nagging him, he wanted to do what he did best--ignore it until it went away and everything was normal again. That he could do, with ease. He found himself outside his apartment complex, before he remembered he couldn't stay there; they had somehow found out about him and had tracked him down in his own home, it was there he had been captured, in his own living room. He prided himself on being careful, aware and safe. And yet these people he had only met a week before already knew who he was and where he lived. Either he was getting sloppy or the criminals were getting smarter--which wasn't likely.

He found himself driving again, he wasn't sure where he was going but his feet and hands seemed to know perfectly well so he let them have control as he tried to stay out of the depths of his mind. He floated just beyond the surface, his eyes semi-glazed over; he didn't notice the police cruiser behind him until they had turned their sirens on. He looked down realizing he was speeding, he eased off the pedal and pulled to the side of the road, pulling out his gun he quickly placed the silencer on it and held it to the window along with his badge, just in case they were actual policemen and not the bad guys dressed to fool him. He felt more than heard the officer tapping on his window with his flashlight; he lazily hit the button to roll it down. Upon seeing the weapon, the officer recoiled and went for his own but he lifted his own and shook his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He drawled. "Show me your I.D."

The officer stood there confused, normally he'd give the poor sap a chance to compose himself but he was on edge tonight and didn't want the men who had him before to catch up to him. "Now. I won't ask again. _Officer._" The man in the uniform withdrew his badge and handed it over, not taking his eyes off the man to his left, he scrutinized the chiseled metal, smooth underneath his rough fingers. He nodded his head before lowering his weapon and handing the officer back his ID, however he did not put the gun away, instead he placed it across his lap and held up his own I.D. that read C.I.A. He nearly rolled his eyes as the officer looked disbelievingly at the I.D.

"Yes we do exist. Now are you going to give me my ticket or are you going to hold me up here until the bad guys come 'round to abduct me again?" He said annoyed. The officer began nervously, but quickly writing out a ticket while he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and continuously checked the road, both behind him, in front of him and on both sides of him. He leered at the man before him, not even in his late twenties, and if his shaking was anything to go by, scared out of his mind. He nearly sent up a prayer for the boy to toughen up, if a CIA Agent scared the kid this easily he'd never make it in any form of law enforcement. He watched as the kid uncertainly tore of the ticket then breathed in quickly.

"You…know..I could probably just let you off with a warning. No ticket necessary?" The officer nearly stuttered, anxiety clear in his voice. He growled.

"You kept me waiting here for ten minutes watching you scribble nonsense on a piece of paper just to tell me you were letting me off with a warning?!" He growled angrily. He knew he was letting his feelings get the best of him but he didn't care. At the moment, he just needed to put distance between him and his attackers.

"Well…um…" The boy offered.

"I have half a mind to put a bullet through that thick skull of yours." With that, he floored it making it out of the town in record time. His mind still hadn't caught up with his body in terms of where the heck he was going, all he knew was that he was heading in the opposite direction of the people that would come after him once they noticed he was gone. He wasn't one to run, but he also wasn't a martyr or a fool. He knew when he had to get out for the greater good, instead of being some tough guy that thinks he can do it all. He felt a thread of shame weave its way into his heart but he instantly dismissed it, shoved it in with the rest of his feelings.

Minutes later, he surprised himself by hitting the brakes, nearly flying out the window shield he sat back, still staring straight ahead at the road. His breathing was ragged and harsh even to his own ears, he gasped as he leaned over the steering wheel unable to get air into his lungs he opened his car door and slipped out. His legs shook, slamming the car door he leaned against it, trying to regain his breath, a new panic settling in his chest. He looked at the house in front of him and let out a humorless laugh, suddenly wheezing. He was at Gibbs' house, he really wasn't that surprised that his body immediately thought that this would be the best place to take refuge. They both had helped each other out in the past, they even parted on somewhat good terms, better then most his play dates--they usually ended up dead. He knew when Gibbs had said they were even that he was no longer needed or wanted around, that it was the end of their temporary friendship. Gibbs didn't like him, of that he was sure, the man had said so himself. That being said; Gibbs was the closest thing he had to a friend. If anyone could help him, or would help him, Gibbs would be the person to go to. He pushed himself off his car, wincing at the pain it caused to arch in his bottom.

Every step he took a sharp pain tore through him, causing him to grit his teeth and wobble, memories washed over him the pain a reminder of what they had done to him. He steeled himself against the emotions that were trying to escape the box he put them in and continued his painful journey to the door. He knew it was unlocked, it was a well-known fact that Gibbs always kept his house unlocked but he just couldn't muster the strength to go any further, he leaned against the house, breathing deeply as he knocked on the door. He waited a few more minutes before knocking again, this time he heard someone cursing and coming up a flight of stairs, he smirked as he heard the footsteps coming to the door. Seconds later it swung open to reveal a clearly agitated Gibbs, he just stared at him, his mouth slightly open trying to breathe, sweat dripping off of him as he used the house for support. He could only imagine what he looked like. They had done a pretty good number on his face with their feet and hands, but he had pushed the physical pain down with the emotional, unable to contain the pain in his bottom he cringed as he stepped forward. He placed a hand on the doorframe and shut his eyes, trying to breathe the pain away. He opened them to find Gibbs studying him with his penetrating blue eyes.

"Are you going to let me in Gibbs?" He asked tiredly, finally letting some of his exhaustion show.

"Depends on why you're here Kort." Gibbs said smoothly. Sharp as always, even at two in the morning.

"I came to drink all your coffee and destroy your boat as you sleep." He snapped, before remembering who he was talking to. He tried to lift his arm but a white-hot pain erupted in his ribs, causing him to nearly double over, his eyes narrowing as the knives that were stabbing his lungs calmed themselves. Every ache in his body was currently making itself known, the prospect of a warm bed, shower and ice making him come alive again.

"Well I'm already one-up on you there. Boats been demolished." Gibbs said shrugging.

"And I wasn't invited? I'm offended." He sighed. His breath caught in a haze of pain, shutting his eyes he put his head against the doorframe and tried to reposition himself. He definitely had a broken rib, as he blinked his eyes open again, everything seemed so foggy in his mind. He shook his head and steadied himself.

"What do you want Kort?" Gibbs said suddenly.

"Help." He said lowly.

"Help? What the CIA doesn't have their agent's six?" Gibbs stated flatly.

For the first time in a long time, he felt the truth tumbling from his lips. It felt awkward, dirty and somehow wrong "I was captured tonight, Gibbs. Tortured. I'd rather not be asked questions about what happened. I don't think I can answer just yet." .

"Sounds like a personal problem to me." The silver-haired man said.

"They're coming for me. They know where I live Gibbs." He said.

"How is this my problem?" Gibbs asked eyebrow raised. He felt something twisting in him, vulnerability creeping up on him, he spun around as he felt cold, ghost fingers trailing up and down his spine. He swallowed turning back to Gibbs who now looked suspicious.

"Please." He said then, needing to get out of the open. Gibbs must have felt it too because in the next moment he was standing cautiously in the middle of Gibbs' living room, looking around he studied the room, suddenly a hand grabbed him from behind. He yanked his arm away, and spun around, shouting "No!" He aimed his gun at Gibbs' head, his heart raced as the feeling of the tightening hand on his elbow vanished, as did the feeling of the other hands roaming his body. Breathing in harshly, he lowered his gun putting it on the coffee table between them. They locked eyes for a minute before Gibbs swept in to the kitchen. He didn't follow, there was no need to, either Gibbs would come back or he wouldn't. He could care less, he was in that was all that mattered. Only a few minutes later the kitchen door swung open and Gibbs was handing him a cup of coffee and sitting in front of him.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure you want to know?" He asked giving a little smirk.

"No. But since I let you in, I'd like to know what I got myself into. So I can be prepared for my door to be kicked down by an angry Arms' dealer or terrorist." Gibbs said shrugging.

"Neither actually. I'm on to more….mundane and depraved things." He answered sighing.

"Such as?" Gibbs asked.

"The French Mafia." He said.

"That what happen to your face?" Gibbs inquired.

"Yeah, got in a fight with some steel-toed boots and fists. Broke some ribs, my nose, and injured other areas." He answered, hoping Gibbs would have some painkillers. He looked up to see Gibbs smirking even though he knew Gibbs didn't know what happened it still sent a thrill of dread down his spine.

"Don't." He said suddenly, his eyes lighting up with an emotion he had let no one see in a long time--fear. Raising the glass cup to his lips he blew over it, biting down on the cup he glanced at Gibbs who was watching him stony-faced.

"I have Doctor Mallard on Speed Dial." Gibbs offered breaking the uncomfortable silence. He was starting to feel out of control, he was letting his barriers slip, he knew if they slipped too much that he would slip back into the past. He needed more time to collect himself. He couldn't let Gibbs see how torn up he was, how much pain he was in be it physical or emotional. He also knew, however, that he needed his broken bones, at the least, tended to. He nodded his permission.

"I know you have something stronger than coffee Gibbs." He said snidely.

"Not until Ducky checks you out." Gibbs said, while putting the bottles of bourbon on the table.

"Are you concerned about me Gibbs?" He said raising an eyebrow of his own.

"Nah, just don't want you sticking around any longer than needed." Gibbs said.

"I am not one to take advantage of another's hospitality." He answered smoothly.

"Would you know? I doubt anyone has been hospitable to you in your whole life time." Gibbs said as he drank his own glass of bourbon.

"Well I'll always have La Grenouille and his fine taste in Cognac." He answered, he nearly smirked in triumph as he saw Gibbs' lips twitch. "He did want me to give Doctor Mallard the bottle they shared."

"You never gave it." Gibbs stated.

"No. It seemed unnecessarily cruel. I should have sent it to Director Shepard." He said watching his companion's face, nothing changed except the downward slant of his lips. "DiNozzo screwed the pooch."

"He was following orders. What boggles my mind, to this day, is that after twelve years of peace and quiet Svetlana finally tracked us down. Out of the blue." Gibbs said his eyes sharp and haunted.

"Timing is everything." He echoed once again. He paused for a minute before going on, "Shepard screwed the pooch in Paris. Anybody else in your Agency screw-up that I should know about?"

"We all have our secrets Kort." Gibbs stated darkly.

"Some darker than others." He said in a mock-cheerful tone. He sighed inaudibly, glad for the distraction Gibbs gave him. Suddenly he looked up and locked eyes with Gibbs it was then he read the truth in the mans' eyes. He was doing this on purpose. Doing this for him. He nearly laughed.

"Like yours, Trent?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"Some." He answered bowing his head.

"Like tonight." Gibbs stated flatly.

"Well, they're going to have to be taken down the old fashion way that's for sure." He agreed.

"Good old detective work?" Gibbs said.

"CIA old fashion--assassination." He said, Gibbs smiled at that and nodded.

"What and let them get away with busting you up like that? Too easy." Gibbs said as he flipped his phone open and began speaking to his old friend, it took another five minutes to get Ducky off the phone before he finally was able to turn back to Kort. "So what's it gonna be? Mine or yours?"

"I'm staying here if we do yours." He said in a quiet voice, he shifted slightly uncomfortable at this painfully vulnerable admission.

"Scared Trent?" Gibbs asked smirking. He just shrugged not answering.

"I'm just here to protect you." He answered trying to veer the conversation away from any sort of emotion, Gibbs laughed out loud at that.

"Do you want me to lock my doors?" Gibbs asked mockingly.

"If you don't I will." He said seriously. Gibbs got up and silently began locking all the windows in the house, he watched him in his usual cocky manner. It was minutes later, when Gibbs was upstairs, that the doorknob twisted, he wrenched forward and grabbed his gun off the table and pointed it at the shadow in the doorway. It stepped closer, closing the door Doctor Mallard stood waiting for him to drop his weapon.

He lowered his weapon and bowed his head. "Trent Kort. I've heard much about you."

"DiNozzo I expect." He drawled casually.

"He isn't too fond of you I'm afraid." Ducky said apologetically throwing his coat on the armchair.

"I am not fond of him either." He said curtly. Ducky chuckled as he pulled out a stethoscope and bandages, along with peroxide and water and a few rags.

"I haven't had to clean up after someone in a long time. The last time I did it was Marcin Jerek's mess." Ducky said sadly.

"This isn't his mess. He'd be dead if it was." He answered coldly.

"Not a fan I see." Ducky said understandingly.

"He was my least favorite professor." He shrugged, wincing as he did so.

"Well lets have a look see." Ducky said as he went off on one of his long-winded stories about the time Director Shepard, Jethro and him stole a boat from France and sailed back to America.

**WITH GIBBS.**

He stood by the kitchen door listening, he had left Trent for privacy, the man obviously did not want to speak in front of him and he was fine with that. Kort was not his friend, but that did not mean he wanted him dead. Someone had done a number on him, and he was going to bring them down; it was, after all, his job. He stood next to the door listening to Kort's story.

"…..I was suppose to make the inner ring, but something went wrong, something tipped them off. They somehow knew that I was CIA. It wasn't me and they aren't the brightest, even for Mafia. I think I have a traitor on my hands. I was taken by surprise at my home, they bound me and gagged me, not before I killed three of them though. I woke up a couple hours later, I was still bound when they each took their turn beating the crap out of me with their fists and feet." Kort said detached.

He hesitated looking at Ducky.

"Go on Mr. Kort. I can't tell anyone the findings, not even Gibbs. Your secret is safe with me." Ducky said comfortingly.

"They knocked me out. I woke tied to a bed. Three….three of them…had their way with me." Kort said looking away.

"They raped you?" Ducky said, controlling his disgust.

"Yes." Kort said emotionlessly

Gibbs turned away, his hand covering his face, he sighed and took another silent swig of his bourbon. When he had opened up the door to a swaying, limping, unsteady, bleeding Kort he had had no idea the man had just been raped. He seemed out of it for sure, still did, but he wasn't distraught. Though being CIA he probably wouldn't be. He could hear Ducky talking to Kort about a rape kit. His gut twisted in anger. Kort may not be on his favorites list but he was still someone Gibbs knew, someone whose path he ran across often, someone he worked with a few times. He didn't have a difficult time pinpointing the emotion he felt swirl up in him, it was for certain righteous anger and a fierce protectiveness, what he didn't know was why. Kort had never been a friend, he didn't like him. At least that's what he always told himself, at first it had been true, but some where's along the line he felt himself relax around Kort and that's when he started reminding himself that Kort was the enemy.

However, the thought of someone violating Kort in that way, made him sick, made him feel violated, and pissed. Tomorrow was not going to be a good day for the mafia. That was for sure. He may just go with the CIA old fashion way of dealing with threats that didn't want to deal with them. Re-checking the locked windows he sunk into the kitchen chair as he gulped down more bourbon, his gun in front of him; Kort would not be the only one standing guard tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

It was nearly morning by the time Ducky left, the sun was just peaking over the horizon when Kort waddled delicately and carefully into the kitchen. Had the circumstances been different he would have laughed at the ridiculousness of Kort waddling around like a penguin. Sighing he grabbed another glass, raising it up as Kort placed the doughnut pillow Ducky had given him for his butt on the chair across from him, Kort nodded curtly before gingerly sitting himself down, careful of his ribs. Instead of filling it only a half an inch or so, he was generous with the drink, filling the whiskey cup to the brim and setting it in front of Kort who just looked at it for a minute. He watched as the other man suddenly lifted his glass and poured its contents into Gibbs's glass before snatching the whole bottle of bourbon for himself and taking a huge swig of it. He really did snort in amusement then, Kort shrugged quietly.

He favored his glass of bourbon as he silently started searching for words, it was unusual for him to not know what to say; it was true he didn't speak much and when he did it was short and to the point, but he always knew what to say, even when he didn't say it. If he wanted to start a conversation he could, it never failed him before. He had always opted for the silence, it was half the reason he had gotten so accustomed to Kort; the man was almost as silent as he was, it was never an uncomfortable, awkward silence. Just silence. Though he knew Kort liked a good conversation from time to time, he was even a people person when needed to be. That was where he and Kort were different, Kort could bend to other's expectations, could change to fit another's needs and could adjust and adapt to different situations, standards, expectations and just life in general than he could. Whatever was required of Kort to get the job done, he would bend and do it. While Gibbs' wouldn't, he stood by his standards, he didn't change for anybody and he got his job done just fine--even better than most. However, the CIA and NCIS were two very different Agencies with very different agenda's, priorities and intentions.

He began to wonder if anyone knew the real Kort. Perhaps Kort automatically adjusted himself to the person he was in direct contact with the most, adopting an attitude similar to his target's. He watched quietly as Kort drank some more, wondering how Kort could live with himself. Killing on command, no morals, no standards, nothing inside telling you what's right and what's wrong. Everything becomes a shade of grey at that point and everything is fine under different circumstances, it was amazing Kort was still sane and fighting for what he deemed the 'good' side. He supposed it was a good thing he couldn't understand Kort's way of life, but he wasn't proud of the thought that karma paid Kort back big time last night. There was no excuse for what those men had done to Trent, and he immediately chastised himself for even thinking that it could somehow be Kort's own fault. He roughly shoved the chair he sat in out, getting up he went to the fridge and pulled out half eaten Chinese food still in the boxes they were delivered in. He heated them up quickly in the microwave and handed three to Kort, and three to himself. He watched as Kort merely played with his food, looking tired, in pain and inebriated.

"Don't play with your food." He snapped out in his usual cold voice, the second 'b' was still for bastard even after all these years the sharp coldness, the razor sharp edge he had, was still there waiting to strike whenever he became too close to anything or any one.

"Bet you haven't said that in the last sixteen years." Kort said just as coldly, he froze, his insides twisting and turning to ice. He sat still and tense waiting for the next attack but none came. Kort knew how to hit to make it hurt and he didn't even move a muscle.

"You are a bastard Trent." He said quietly now picking at his own food.

"Takes one to know one." Kort said mockingly.

"I see you're still in the third grade Mr. Kort." He said ignoring the barb.

"Jealous Gibbs?" Kort asked raising an eyebrow. "Trent."

"Not of you." He replied. "Trent."

"Could have fooled me." Kort said.

"Well if it's that easy to do then no wonder you were captured tonight." He said. He instantly regretted it as soon as it left his mouth, he saw Kort's fork falter. He could kick himself for saying something so foolish, he watched solemnly, wanting to say sorry but thinking it would be misconstrued as pity. It was then that he felt the silence returning to them, engulfing Kort in a bubble and seeping into his own world. It was suffocating as it pressed against his eardrums. He felt Kort shutting down, the silence was deafening and the look of nothingness on Kort's face was eerie. It was minute later he could feel the darkness taint the unnerving quiet and pull at Kort's mind; he knew he had to provide a distraction but after what he had just said he didn't know if there was an appropriate one. He knew Trent would eventually have to face the darkness and it would have to be soon, otherwise issues would arise later, but he didn't know how to deal with him. With others, it was easy he expected the tears, and the fear, but Kort didn't seem the type, he was the type that shutdown when any sort of grief, or hurt arose. And that's exactly what he couldn't do but he didn't exactly seem to want to talk about it either; pushing his own comfort aside he dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"What did they do Kort?" Gibbs said quietly pushing his own dinner to the side.

"You were listening, you know." Kort said indifferently. "I'm fine."

"No you are not. Three of them raped you Trent." He said trying to get Kort to open up.

"I was there. I know." Kort said angrily.

"Then you are not fine." He stated flatly.

"The Agency trained us for the worst possible scenarios. It happens to all of us." The man continued on emotionless.

"But you still feel. You aren't dead Trent. And you aren't Jerek. You can feel pain." He said quietly bowing his head.

"I feel nothing. I'm fine. I don't see why you are concerned." Kort said.

"You're fine are you? What happens if someone touches you? If someone accidentally brushes up against you? Going to blow their head off like you almost did mine tonight?" He said calmly.

"You came up behind me." Kort replied.

"I had your six." He countered.

"I'll be fine." Trent said hostility forming in his voice.

"Sure you will." He answered while getting up. He stood behind Trent who tensed automatically; he wondered how far it would take to push Kort over the edge. He needed to know just how bad Kort was right now, just how 'fine' he was. "Stand." Kort did so without questioning him, he pressed a hand between Kort's shoulder blades, noticing only a small apprehension. He awkwardly ran his hand down the smooth but hard arm, feeling Kort's muscles rippling beneath his fingers. He barely noticed Kort tensing slightly but not pulling away, he was slightly impressed. He gently let his fingers travel over Kort's ribs, feeling the muscle and the bone; he stepped in closer, letting his hand travel down Kort's back. Kort bolted upright and started to fight; he turned around his eyes wide and full of fear and anger. Kort instinctively went at him, grabbing his arms Gibbs held him back, shoving him against the counter, Kort started struggling more, his breath coming in harsh gasps, eyes clenched shut as tightly as possible.

"Don't." Kort said softly. A painful twinge resonated in his body, it made him sick to his stomach to think he had caused such a reaction. Kort was still gasping, his eyes clenched shut tightly, he was beginning to shake, He quickly let go of Kort's arms, and watched as the man sunk down to the floor.

**WITH KORT.**

He could feel Gibbs' hands on him, it took every effort for him to not flinch at the contact, he had to constantly remind himself that this was Gibbs and if the man even thought about hurting him, he could put a bullet in his head. He was doing fine, he felt a bit awkward but nothing that bordered on fear, until Gibbs had stepped close enough for him to feel his hot breath on the nape of his neck. He tensed up, remembering how the men had fooled with him before they violated him; they had gotten close and claimed him with their mouths. Their breath's had smelt like old champagne and onions, their hands felt like sandpaper. Suddenly a hand was running down his back, and all he could see in front of him was the bed he was tied too, he struck out, only to find himself restrained, before he could even breathe he looked up to see the face of his first attacker.

_He lay cuffed to the bed, his face and ribs killing him, he could feel the wind on his naked body, shivering he heard the door closing. He fisted his hand around the cuffs and held his breath. The man was speaking to him but he wasn't paying attention, he knew what they were going to do to him--why else would you be naked and tied to a bed? Concentrating on his predicament and not the voices above him he tried to find a way out, starting with the cuffs, he tugged on them only to feel sturdy wood pull back. He looked around seeing only the clear sliding doors and the entrance the men had come through. He just prayed he made it through this alive, in the back of his mind however he wished they'd just shoot him and leave him untouched but that went ignored, as he felt the bed dip and two legs straddling him. He started speaking, telling them they didn't want to do this, they laughed the man on top of him bent down and whispered in his ear, "But oh we do. You are going to be our example, show them what happens to people like you when they mess with us."_

_And with that the man put his hand on the nape of his neck and slid it slowly down his back, he shivered and clenched his eyes shut, tensing as he felt breath traveling down with the hand. He swallowed as he felt a tongue sliding up his back, and into his ear. He kept quiet, they would do what they wanted with him but he would not beg, plead, or cry. He would take it like a man and wait to escape. He soon felt the man's hands all over him, he tried not to squirm, or cry out even when the man grabbed his man hood and squeezed. He held back any and all tears of humiliation and shame. Of Helplessness and pain. He dug himself deep inside his mind and tried tuning out the man that was playing with his body. Minutes later, he felt a burst of tearing agony and realized that the man had thrusted inside him dry. He gave a cry of agony as the man began to take him dry and rough, with no mercy. It was only the beginning of the nightmare._

It seemed like hours before he realized someone was hitting him on the face, he fearfully opened his eyes afraid to find the evil grin of his first rapist above him. Instead blaring light and the face of an old man swam before his blurred eyes, he shook his head, as he heard the muffled, distant, voice of Gibbs calling his name. He sat up, feeling himself shaking like a leaf; he flinched as Gibbs laid a hand on his shoulder and backed away. He sat on his haunches, hunched into himself, gasping for air and trying to control his shaking, he could feel Gibbs' eyes on him, but all that he could think of was the unbearable memory. The feeling of the man inside of him, he tried locking eyes with Gibbs, for the older man it was no problem but he couldn't keep his own eyes on him.

"Don't shut down on me Kort. Talk to me." He heard Gibbs saying, but the fear that ran raw in his veins refused to let him open his mouth.

"I can't. I won't. I can't." He kept repeating trying to contain himself and put himself back together.

"You can." Gibbs spoke softly reaching out to him but Kort jerked back and growled, "Don't touch me!"

"Kort I am not them. I will not hurt you." Gibbs reassured.

"I don't care just stay away from me! I don't want this! I don't want to feel this! I want it gone! And I want them out of me! I want this to be over with so I can just move on!" He yelled angrily.

"You can't move on until you accept what happened to you Trent. You have to accept." Gibbs said.

Kort raised his voice angrily, "I don't want--I just--they raped me! How am I supposed to accept that? They bound me and three of them raped me and they were going to rape me again but I escaped and now I'm here and I don't know why! I don't know what to do with myself anymore! I know I have to go back to work, beg for another mission and move on! But instead I'm sitting here listening to you tell me to accept that fact that I was raped and I didn't do anything to stop it! I didn't fight, I didn't move, I didn't even make a sound! I CAN'T accept it! If I accept it I can never go back!"

His life was over, some where's in his fuzzy mind he was fighting against the feeling but how could he possibly go back, even to another undercover op? He'd be constantly looking over his shoulder, too paranoid to play the role. They'd get suspicious and then it would really happen again, and maybe if he was lucky he wouldn't survive it that time around. He closed his eyes again at the thought, when he had driven to Gibbs' house he had plenty of thoughts of just flooring his car and running of a cliff, or into the ocean and just letting himself drown, but even though his mind screamed at his body to turn left to the ocean his body wouldn't listen it kept turning right until he had ended up at Gibbs' house. He couldn't even kill his own pain, he was discovered through some fault of his own, or even a traitor maybe, then raped and then he escaped planning to kill himself before they could rape him again but he was too weak to even do that. And while he knew it took strength to keep on living through what he did, he also knew it wasn't that that kept him around. It wasn't strength it was fear of dying.

"That's weak Kort and you know it. Just going to give up are you? Going to lie down and die like a good doggie?" Gibbs mocked coldly.

"I'm not giving up. I'm no martyr." He said glaring at Gibbs.

"Really? Seems like you are to me. Things get too hard and you just give up?" Gibbs asked.

"No! I've never given up when the going got tough; every day of my job, of my life is difficult! It's part of the occupation!" He snapped.

"Then don't give up now! You give up because of what they did to you, because of your own fear, then you are giving them more power. Do not give them any more power over you Trent." Gibbs growled angrily, his eyes fierce.

"It's not…" He began to say before he remembered who he was. He was CIA, he was a trained killer, he was Trent Kort. Nothing was ever as easy as it sounded yet he always pushed through it no matter how hopeless it seemed or painful. He just hoped this was one of the times his unusual perseverance saved him from insanity. He simply nodded and Gibbs held out a hand to him, watching it he shook his head. "I'm going to stay down here for a few minutes, then take a shower." Gibbs nodded mutely and began making breakfast, the first ray of sunshine already streaming around the room, warming it up like a bakery oven. He soon got up, trying to return to normal he went upstairs to the bathroom and turned the water as hot as it would go, wincing as it burned his skin he stayed under the jet of molten water until it turned ice cold and numbed him to the bone. From fire hot to ice cold, he stayed; erasing them and numbing himself into nothingness.

**DOWNSTAIRS.**

He stood silently over the stove, smelling the bacon as he cooked it. He tried to concentrate on the sizzling fat, instead of the picture of a shaking Kort huddled into himself defensively, scared to let anyone go near him. It was hard to imagine that he would ever see the cold, and seemingly unfeeling CIA agent on his knees, shaking and afraid, yet he had, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. It shook him, he knew people could be broken, anyone could you just had to apply the right pressure in the right places; and he wasn't foolish enough to think Kort was invincible. Yet seeing so much raw emotion radiating from the man was unnerving. It felt like the whole world had stopped and time stood still as Kort unleashed pent up pain and anger. He had known the pain that lurked underneath the surface, what he didn't expect was the past pain and anger, bitterness and resentment that accompanied the raw emotions he was firing off at the time. He wondered just how many wounds Kort nursed and covered up underneath that mask of his. He really didn't know what to do with Kort, he had tried acting as if Trent was one of his own but that didn't seem right. He had always considered Trent his equal, not his superior or his subordinate. But he wasn't a friend either. Yet he had tried to comfort the man who blew up his agent's car and almost framed him for murder. He shook his head trying to shake the thought of betraying his agent, there had been no proof Kort had done anything, but he knew deep down that he had indeed blew up Tony's car. Yet he couldn't muster anything but a slight annoyance and a mild anger at the man, if anyone else had tried killing Tony they'd be ripped to pieces in an instant.

"Making me breakfast already Gibbs?" Kort said standing in the entranceway to the kitchen.

"Not for you. For me. You can make your own." He replied finding it nice to have everything back to normal between him and Kort. "Jethro."

"Jethro then. Smells good." Trent said walking over to stand by his side, smelling the bacon, he stood quietly reaching for another plate. Thankful that Trent seemed comfortable around him, enough to get as close as he was anyways. Piling the bacon and eggs onto one plate he handed it to Trent who gave him a thank you and began to eat as if he hadn't eaten in weeks, Gibbs lips twitched a bit before he made his own breakfast and began eating across from a silent Trent but this silence was comfortable, peaceful and just what they both needed. An hour later they arrived at NCIS, standing in the elevator Gibbs watched Trent.

"Something you like Jethro?" Kort asked amusedly.

"You wish Kort." He growled. "Thinking about which way I want to go on this one."

"Thought you said we were doing it the good ole fashion NCIS way?" Trent asked slowly.

"Ah. What fun is that? I'm all for the CIA way." He said shrugging. He watched Kort smirk.

"I think I may be a bad influence on you Gibbs." Trent said, he gave a small smile before stepping off the elevator.

"Well Ziva will be happy to be back in her element." He said swooping past her as he spoke. Tony perked up as he saw Kort and Gibbs together, his eyes narrowing, McGee looked on curiously.

"We're CIA for now." He called across the bullpen, Tony stood up, confused. "We have people to assassinate."

"What? Boss what's going on?" Tony asked confused, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

"Kort's cover was blown with the French Mafia. We need to eliminate these guys before they do more damage. And find the traitor in the CIA. Only way to do that is to kill off the Mafia." He answered, hoping Tony would let Kort and his enmity drop just this once.

"How is this our problem? Sounds more like his and I don't like cleaning up after weasels." DiNozzo said.

"It's our problem because I said it was DiNozzo." He snapped.

He sighed knowing it was going to be one long week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note--Mentions of rape.**

Trent was snoring softly on his couch, the side of his face pressed into the leather, his one arm dangling off. His shoes laid on the floor at the opposite end of the couch, his jacket tossed aside. He hadn't bothered to change out of his suit before collapsing on his couch in sheer exhaustion, both physical and emotional. Trent hadn't spoken a word since they had gotten in the car opting for his usual snide silence, which on the ride home turned into a very awkward and uncomfortable one. They both were thinking very different things about the same thing: Gibbs wondering if Kort would be ok and what to say, or if he should even try to say something. And Kort just wanted to go to sleep and forget this whole ordeal ever started, he just hoped Gibbs would let him forget. It was ten minutes after returning home that Kort shed his jacket, pulled off his shoes and fell asleep on the couch, while Gibbs sat on the armchair across from him He was not one for sentiment, especially with a man he barely knew but something wasn't right, his gut was twisting inside of him and screaming louder than it usually does. And he knew what it was saying: taking out Deston's men was too easy, and they never did take out Deston--he got away. For now at least, he wasn't about to let the Mafia boss get away with hurting a friend.

And that really was what Trent was to him now, they had spent the last three days together, which didn't mean anything other than he had gotten use to Kort's presence and had become more paranoid. What did mean something was that earlier tonight when they had all gotten separated against his wishes, after what had happened to Trent he didn't want to take any chances, he had told everybody to stay in groups of two and not to separate. However when a bomb went off they were forced to scatter as men with AK-47's chased after them. He had run through the dining room and the kitchen before finding himself in a miscellaneous bedroom. Deston's men entered after him, he was able to kill four before being overpowered with no where's to run, they were about to fire when suddenly shots rang out from behind them and blood flew from their bodies as they fell. Standing in the doorway over the men's dead bodies was Kort who nodded to Gibbs and motioned him to go with him. They had run through the ship trying to find the others, Tony had been his partner, Kort was paired with Ziva, the thought that it was Kort that found him before Tony was worrisome. He knew Tony would always have his six no matter what and wouldn't go on until he was reunited with his partner and made sure he was ok. And the thought that he didn't see or hear DiNozzo sent a jolt of raw terror through his veins, the thought of Tony laying crushed beneath wood, metal and stone, or laying in a pool of his own blood shot to death, took his breath away.

Hurting Kort was one thing but killing the closest thing he had to a child was another. They had finally reached the others, McGee was passed out cold, Tony had a bullet in his shoulder and Ziva was favoring her right side. He walked in, lowering his weapon slightly and gave them a once over, figuring out who could still hold their own and who couldn't. He had been about to give orders when he heard a grunt of pain from behind him, he swiveled around to see a man with an arm around Trent's neck and a gun to his head. He had raised his own gun and could feel his team doing the same; all pointed at the perps head. The man just laughed and licked Kort's ear and whispered loud enough for all to hear, "Hey beautiful how are you doing? I missed you. I couldn't get off without imagining reaming into your ass again." His stomach felt sick, his anger caused his hand to shake, his finger twitched on the trigger, he looked at Kort who had shut his eyes, and seemed to be trying to tune him out. It was only the twitch of his left eye that gave away the terror he was trying to restrain and hide.

"Let him go dirt bag." He growled.

The man laughed before wiping is eyes and shaking his head. "I don't think so. You see what's going to happen is this: I'm going to walk out of here and Trent is coming with me. You won't follow, or try to find me; if you do, he'll end up with a bullet in his head. Now us love birds, " at this he nuzzled his face against Kort's, Gibbs tightened his grasp on his gun as Kort flinched, "Are going to go far far away and when I am through with him you can have him back. In one piece."

"You aren't going anywhere's with him. Trent is staying right here, with me." He said in a deadly voice.

"Oh really? Seeing as how I currently have Trent, and with a gun to his head too, I doubt it. Come on lover boy we're leaving. I've been looking forward to tonight's festivities for a long time." The man purred in his ear as he backed out of the room with Kort. Gibbs waited until they were out of the hallway before giving orders to his team to spread out and make a perimeter around the yacht; that man was not leaving with Kort, not if he had anything to do with it. Kort had somehow fallen into sync with the team, whether it was because of his training as a spook or just came naturally; it wasn't uncomfortable to work with him any longer. He wasn't an investigator by profession but Trent learned quickly, not to mention the extensive experiences with criminals he had came in useful when they had to get into one's mind. Ziva and Kort together were a formidable team, Tony and Trent could easily partner up and pull off an undercover op--they had found that out the hard way, another team needed to borrow them to go undercover in a gay bar as a couple. And McGee was just the same with or without Kort there. He had to give Kort credit for not flinching or saying anything when McGee started hacking the CIA. And of course, he and Kort made their own sort of team. They could easily run the MCRT by themselves.

Not to mention on a more personal level that he had grown to like Kort, still didn't trust him and didn't believe a word he said, but he liked him to a point. It was more than his sense and call of duty that had him fighting for Kort. He rounded the bend and out of the yacht, stepping onto the deck he made it over to the perps vehicle and climbed in. He had to get Kort safely away from the man, he couldn't risk taking him down when the gun was still at his head, and the perp wasn't about to be talked down. He wasn't going to lower his weapon until he absolutely had to.

"Let him get away with Kort. Do not follow. I'm in the back of his jeep but do not follow." He had whispered clearly to his agents hoping DiNozzo would listen and obey, instead of trying to play hero and claim to 'have his six'. He feared that one day DiNozzo would run after him, having his six and no one would have his Senior Field Agent's six; he did not want to ID his dead agent. His mind went silent as the drivers door was opened and Kort was shoved through it and pushed to the passenger's seat, his hands tied behind back, the perp got behind the wheel and pointed a gun at Kort, using one hand to put the key in the ignition and starting to drive off. Kort wasn't saying a word, he watched the perp lower his gun and put it on his lap. The man was at least six feet one, much taller then Kort, a solid 260 pounds, with brown hair and green eyes, the man began to hum; Gibbs nearly smirked when Kort glared at him.

"You can't sing. Don't try." Kort said curtly.

"So grumpy! Not a morning person are you? Hmm. Me either I'm more of a night owl if ya know what I mean." The man said winking at Kort who intensified his glare.

"How'd you find me out? Mole?" Kort asked lightly

"Nah. Too obvious. We didn't break into the CIA either. We broke into your place and found your ID. You left your window unlocked. Sloppy sloppy!" He ended in a singsong voice.

"Name?" Kort asked snidely.

"Oh I go by Charles, but you my love can call me Charlie. Or Chip." Chip said sappily, grinning cockily.

"I am not your love." Kort replied.

"Oh but I beg to differ. If your partner knows what's good for the both of you, he won't come after me and I'll have you all to myself darling." Chip said, he settled a hand on Kort's thigh and traveled upwards, Kort growled, Gibbs raised his gun before lowering it, Chip was driving if he killed him now he could possibly be killing them all, Kort just sucked in his breath and stared ahead, tensing slightly as Chip unzipped him and fondled him roughly, feeling every inch of Kort. He felt a burst of rage, clamping down on the urge to yell; he popped up and placed a gun to Chip's head.

"Remove your hand. Now. I won't ask you twice." He hissed angrily, Kort relaxed slightly as Charlie obeyed, he grabbed the gun off Chip's lap before he could grab it. "Pull over." Chip did so quietly, getting out he anticipated Chip's next move, as he too exited the car at the same time, dodging the blow, he raised the butt of his gun and slammed it into Chip's head, before putting a round in his forehead. He jogged quickly around to Kort's side and opened the door, the CIA Agent slid out of the jeep and onto his knees on the ground, Gibbs moved behind him as Kort began to throw up. He quickly untied his hands gently and placed a hand on Kort's shoulder. Kort was trembling, he squeezed his shoulder strongly, offering what little comfort he could, he kneeled down next to Kort not sure what to say.

"Kort." He called softly, looking over at him he realized his eyes were glassy, sighing he shook him a bit, trying to wake him up from the flashback he was reliving. Kort began to shake violently, Gibbs smacked him in the face a few times before firing a round in the air, smirking when Kort jumped and came back to reality. He swallowed as he saw the devastated look on Kort's face, a look he had never seen before.

"Kort?" He asked quietly.

"Bad memory. I'm fine." Kort said guilt filling his voice.

"The hell you are." flipping open his cell he called for back up, soon enough they were in the car on the ride home.

"My apartment is east Gibbs." Kort had said.

"You're staying with me." He had answered.

"Why want your way with me now too?" Kort had snapped. He had swerved the car in a jerky motion and slammed his hand down on the steering wheel.

"No! Never. Goddammit Trent! Freaking CIA spook. I'm worried. It doesn't feel like it's over, don't want you to get hurt. Motherfu--you made me care about you!" He yelled slamming his hand on the steering wheel again, that's when everything went silent. Both in their own thoughts, Gibbs thinking about how Kort saved his life and Kort thinking about how Gibbs' saved his. That's how they ended up where they were now, Trent snoring on the couch softly, with Gibbs watching over him, waiting for the storm to come to his house. He got off the chair slowly, his knees cracking, he walked stiffly over to Trent, shaking him, he waited for his eyes to open before pulling him up.

"Where we going?" Kort asked tiredly.

"Bedroom." He replied shortly.

"Thought you said you didn't want that from me." Trent said trying to pull away.

"Guest room." Gibbs said opening the door and watching Kort collapse on the bed. "DiNozzo has some extra sleeping attire in the drawer, you can wear those. Bathroom is through the door on the left. Shout if you need anything. I got watch tonight." He left leaving Kort staring at him blankly, he sighed knowing Kort's mind was going on shut down but right now he didn't have the time, energy or patience to deal with an emotional break down; he'd be damned if he dealt with it either way, the CIA had many good shrinks.

Nearly four hours later, while he was sipping coffee at his kitchen table he heard the door open, he got up quickly, gun in hand he leaned up against the wall, a man in jeans and a black trench coat entered the kitchen, he quickly fired, blood spraying over his face and walls, the guy lay dead on his floor. He did a once over of his house to make sure no one else was with the guy, his gut twisting knowing this wasn't right, he quickly checked Kort's room, not only for people but for bugs and cameras; finding nothing he relaxed an uneasiness still lingering in his gut as he exited the room and sat back down on his chair, gun in front of him. He jumped at every little noise, fearing the worst, he hadn't slept in days and it was getting to him; back in the days when he was running black ops he could easily stay up for ten days straight but he had lost that part of his training with age and reprogramming to fit NCIS's needs. He was tempted to call in DiNozzo to help him stand guard, but he didn't, Kort wouldn't want someone else to see him like he is and he knew Tony would have no self-control.

His mind began to wander and before he knew it, he was asleep in the kitchen.

**TRENT'S POV.**

He opened his eyes, his mind foggy and groggy, it felt like a heavy, crushing weight was inside his head crushing his brain, he tried moving his limbs but he couldn't, his body felt like it was being crushed as well. He tried calling for help but could only manage a strangled whimper.

"Don't bother Trent, Gibbs is being taken care of right now. He can't help you. And after tonight he won't be able to help anyone else ever again." A man's voice called across the room coldly. A shiver went down his spine, he knew that voice, it was his third rapist. He almost let the tears of frustration and desperation form before swallowing down the urge to scream and beg. He just wanted this nightmare to be over with and for everything to go back to normal, why wouldn't they just kill him and be done with it?

As if he read his mind, AJ, spoke up, "Oh you're no good to us dead. Deston decided we would break you, and make you ours, said it could be useful to have someone in the CIA, our little mole, ace up the sleeve." The man walked around till Kort could see him smiling. Kort tried to speak again, putting energy he didn't know he had into it.

"Don't….I can't…" Kort said, he didn't want to beg, he didn't want to be raped and he didn't want to play spy on his own spying agency. He didn't know what to do he turned his head into the pillow and prayed Gibbs would find him, the thought suddenly occurred to him that the man may be lying to him. "GIBBS!"

The man laughed as the door opened and Gibbs was dragged in arms and feet bound, he was thrown against the wall. Deston loomed over him as Gibbs glared at the two men.

"Armand, did you tell him what I wanted?" Deston questioned.

"I did, he has not given me an answer yet." Armand said.

"Hmm. Well Trent what will it be?" Deston said bending over so Kort could only see him.

"Go to hell." he spat angrily, still trying to struggle but his body was still not cooperating with his mind.

Deston smiled and patted him on the head, "Alright then, if you insist on doing it the hard way. This will be your own fault."

Gibbs growled and shook his head at him, his eyes fierce and saying it all. "The only ones responsible for this are you two." Gibbs spat angrily.

"True, true. If only he wasn't so insubordinate, we wouldn't have to punish our pet." Deston said airily.

"He isn't yours." Gibbs growled, eyes slitting as Armand started stripping him, he closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat, horror that it was going to happen again overwhelming him, making panic bubble up inside. He tried struggling but his body wouldn't move his eyes flew open as he felt Armand straddling his naked body once again, this couldn't happen again, this just couldn't. He was about to beg but shut his mouth he would not give them the satisfaction, he would not cry, would not speak, would not even think. He held his breath as he felt Armand align himself with his hole, he sought Gibbs' eyes, and locked onto them, he stared into the fierce blue eyes that were flaring with guilt, fear and horror. Anger lit the blue eyes, he could feel the want to protect radiating from Gibbs. He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes again, he could hear Gibbs struggling and cussing them out in between trying to talk them down, he wasn't paying attention. He cried out in pain as Armand once again pushed into him violently.

"NO!" Gibbs yelled, "GET AWAY FROM HIM! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU BOTH!"

Gibbs kept struggling as Armand kept thrusting into him, suddenly the door was kicked in, revealing DiNozzo with his gun raised, he quickly shot both Deston and Armand before untying Gibbs.

"I came as soon as I got your call. Obviously I arrived too late." Tony said weakly.

"You came DiNozzo that's what matters." Gibbs said quietly, before rushing over to him. Gibbs grabbed Armand and pulled him out of his ass before throwing the scumbag across the room. Gibbs handed him his clothes and beckoned Tony out of the room.

**WITH GIBBS.**

"He was raped." Tony said dryly his lungs still incapable of sucking in a full breath of air.

"The fourth time." He said hoarsely, sitting down, his head in his hands. Tony just stared at him.

"Boss it wasn't your fault, there was nothing you could have done for him you were tied up." Tony said trying to reason with him.

"No Tony, it's half my fault. I was on watch tonight, I fell asleep. If I hadn't they wouldn't have gotten to Trent. I got him raped." He said angrily, pounding his fist on the table. Tony came around and stood behind him, he cautiously placed a hand on Gibbs' shoulder, he just shrugged it off.

"I do not need to be comforted! It was my fault!" He nearly shouted, "It should have been me!" he got up, unable to sit still, he paced angrily back and forth, fuming.

"Boss, you hadn't slept in days, you weren't at your best today, those two men were well-rested, had this planned out extensively and came prepared to bring down a military base. It's a miracle you fought back as much as you had. But I think even if you were at top notch, you'd still have been taken down. Either way asleep or not, this would have happened. I don't blame you. I don't know if Kort does, but I don't think he does. You need to stop blaming yourself, because the more blame you take the less those two assholes have. And they are the ones that should suffer not you. You were just trying to protect him." Tony said, again placing a hand on his shoulder, this time he didn't shake it off, instead he let Tony guide him to the chair he left and let him sit him down.

"It shouldn't have happened DiNozzo." He stated flatly.

"No it shouldn't have. I'm sorry it took me as long as it did to get here. You didn't say it was an emergency, so I stopped to grab a donut." Tony said, looking down.

"You know what you just said DiNozzo? It applies to you as well. But next time I call you, no detours, understand?" Gibbs asked gruffly.

"Yes Boss. Clearly." Tony said, he nodded before pouring some bourbon, he handed both glasses to Tony before swooping up the stairs to see Trent. He stepped into the room to find it empty, he took long hurried strides to the bathroom, to find Kort leaning over the toilet puking, and shaking violently. He heaved unable to catch his breath, tears fell slowly from his eyes, whether it was from puking or being raped or both he didn't know. He grabbed a towel and ran it under warm water handing it to Kort he helped him stand up, and go down the stairs and gave him another bottle of bourbon, Tony stood across the table uncomfortable. He sat next to Kort, DiNozzo nodded at him and went past Gibbs, on his way past Kort he paused and gently placed his hand on Kort's arm. He looked up, eyes red-rimmed and tired looking.

"If you ever want to catch a beer or something, call me. Ok?" Tony asked, Gibbs gave a small proud smile as Kort nodded and dropped his head again, Tony left quietly, Gibbs moved slightly closer until they were shoulder to shoulder.

"I'm sorry Trent. I fell asleep." He said shame and guilt filling his voice. Kort just shook his head.

"I want to blame you but I can't." Kort whispered harshly.

"It's not your fault." He said brooking no argument.

"It's not that. I know it isn't. I am a trained CIA Agent, I shouldn't be so helpless, I should have been able to fight off my attackers." Kort said angrily.

"You were drugged." He explained.

"I know. But still! It shouldn't have happened! I should have been prepared, that's part of our training be prepared for everything and anything at any and all times." Kort yelled viciously, his voice filled with self-reproach.

"All the bad luck is catching up with you Kort. None of this you could have prevented. Bad things just happen." He said. Kort just snorted and said, "Bullshit."

"I had a wife and daughter once Trent. I was serving over in Kuwait. My Daughter Kelly was eight when Shannon witnessed a murder. She was going to testify, they murdered her and my baby girl. I killed the guy who did it. But it didn't bring them back I knew it wouldn't. It still hurt though. I didn't understand why God, or anyone, would allow my little angel to be murdered and my wife too. They were good people, kind-hearted, always gave more then they received. The world would be better with them in it, rather than without them. Yet they were murdered anyways. I use to blame myself for not being there. I could have protected them; but I wasn't. And they died. No matter what I think or feel they are dead either way." He said his voice lowered and tinged with grief and pain. Kort was watching him before swallowing and looking into the bottle, he took a swig of it and then passed it to Gibbs. They spent the next couple hours, shoulder to shoulder passing the bottle of bourbon back and forth in mutual silence both trying to mend the other one's wounds.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs lay in bed, his hands covering his face, he sighed feeling a heavy force weighing on his chest, crushing it and making it hard for him to breathe and move. He swallowed trying to sort out his spinning mind, so many things had happened that day his mind just couldn't process it all at once; if at all. He couldn't sleep, nothing seemed to be making any sense anymore, and he couldn't get the images, the little video feed in his head, to stop playing. He couldn't get the sound of Kort's agonizing cry out of his head, it kept echoing in time with the images of him being raped. The look of pain on his face, in his eyes, the way he tensed, the sickness and tears afterwards; he was beginning to get nauseas himself just thinking about it, it had hurt him: seeing his friend brutally raped right in front of his eyes and all he could do was sit and watch. He had joined law enforcement to stop these sick acts from happening, to protect his own people; and yet even after fifteen years he was still failing to protect those he cared about. First Kate, then Tony on multiple occasions, Jenny, Pacchi Ducky at one point. And now Kort, who he had just started to consider a friend.

The man had a way to always put him at ease without saying or doing anything. He was the first person to never question why he was building a boat in his basement, in fact Kort had never once even commented on the boat. Not even to ask the age-old question 'how do you get it out of the basement?' He didn't want to help him build it, and he didn't want to watch him build it; he didn't hold any animosity towards it either like some of his ex-wives most certainly did. To Kort the boat was what it was and it could stay as it was. He appreciated that, it was a reprieve from the constant interrogation his life seemed to be; everybody wanting to know everything, nothing was kept private in his life for very long. But Trent honored his privacy, and he returned the favor. They both worked in environments that called for daily socializing--be it with people you want to or not, and diplomacy. The latter he wasn't gifted at but Trent was, the man could be very persuasive when he wanted to be, he knew how to blow smoke up someone's ass just right. Usually he didn't think the quality was a good one because you never knew exactly when the smoke-blowing person was sincere and when they were lying; with Kort it was different, you can tell when he was being sincere and when he was blowing smoke up your ass--you just had to know him. Easiest way to tell? Trent Kort doesn't give compliments or praise, if he did he was smoke blowing, otherwise it was Kort just being Kort.

Trent was also very resourceful, and intelligent in a different way then he had first imagined, sure he had his street smarts and his book smarts but he was a very highly educated man. He could easily hold an intelligent, in-depth, lengthy discussion and conversation with anyone about anything; just the night before Kort had turned to him and started talking about clothespins. And how they can be used as a weapon. He imagined it would be useful in Trent's line of work to be as smart, witty and quick as he was, but it was also very impressive to him. Not that he ever doubted Kort's intelligence, quite the opposite he always considered Trent a dangerous opponent because of it, it had been a weapon, a cause of unease with him. Especially knowing how Kort and Tony felt about one another, but now that he knew Trent better his intelligence was an asset and a source of entertainment and stimulation. By the third night, Kort had stayed with him he could swear over a bible that he had learned more from Trent then he had ever learned in school. Kort somewhat reminded him of Ducky in that fashion, always with a story to tell, bits of information and knowledge to spread; the only difference was that he had time to listen to Kort. He guiltily thought that an after hours visit to his old friend was due, and deserved.

Another good quality Kort seemed to possess, also from his line of work it would seem, was to read people, and find out what they wanted and needed. It all seemed rather obvious that Kort would possess such skills, but to see them in action and identify them was a completely different thing. He experienced Kort's reading-people skills first hand a couple nights ago; along with dealing with the mafia they had to deal with a case involving a marine's daughter who was brutally murdered at the tender age of six. He had had a hard time keeping it together at the scene as he stared down at the girls' body transfixed in horror that someone could slash a little girl's throat and let her bleed out. They had finally caught the bastard that killed the six year old, it had been the uncle. That night he just sat down without his bourbon or anything else to give him any sort of comfort and flipped sadly through pictures of his own girls. Kort noticed the somber mood he was in and, to his surprise, sat not next to him on the couch but raised his knees to his chest and sat on the floor next to him, his shoulder brushing against his knee. He didn't speak a word at first, then he started talking about random missions he had. Gibbs didn't know if he was allowed to do that, if Kort was breaking protocol by revealing classified, top-secret covert missions just to bring him a distraction. He smiled when he realized he was, Kort knew to let him have his quiet time with his girls but not to let him stew in it. For someone who was accused of being heartless he seemed to be sharply in tune with everybody else's emotions and feelings. Over the past two weeks they had slowly began to comfort one another and enjoy each other's company and the idea that Kort would be leaving soon made him feel curiously empty inside. He had always thought that he'd enjoy coming home to an empty, and quiet house with nothing but bourbon and a boat to take his mind off things. After a long, noisy, stressful workday, he needed that silence and reprieve. But now that he had grown accustomed to coming home to find a cooked dinner waiting on the table and someone to eat it with, especially someone he liked to spend time with, the old silence and emptiness wasn't as welcoming as it was before. He knew he'd be losing what little comfort he had, not to mention he'd have to go back to buying take out. Kort was a great cook, and he cooked healthy meals, just in two weeks he felt more energized and a bit less exhausted.

He had learned that Kort had wanted to be a chef when he was a teen and worked in a couple restaurants before going to Oxford and later becoming a spy for America. This was always a point of interest for Gibbs, wondering why Trent would choose to work for the States instead of his own country, he had asked once only to have Trent tell him it was none of his damn business. He had seen the look of pure loathing and anger on his face, the hurt that hid so deep in his hazel eyes, it was only seconds later that his cold features returned wiping any and all emotions from his face and being. He never asked again and instead opted for a mutual compromise. But kept it in the back of his mind; he didn't like people keeping secrets from him, and he vowed to find out. Not only had he grown to like Trent and consider him a friend, but he also had grown to care for him and his well-being; it had hurt him, physically made his heart hurt, to watch what those men had done. He felt like he had failed the man laying on his couch downstairs. He couldn't do a thing as Armand had taken Kort, he couldn't even tune out Kort's pain-filled cries. Sorrow dug its way into his heart as he lay in his bed, the room dark, his hands still covering his face, he pushed his eyes in sighing heavily. He wanted to forget everything, to take it back, to fix it but he knew he couldn't and that frustrated him to no end, he didn't know how to make what he was feeling go away; it was the first situation he'd ever been in that booze and manual labor didn't take away.

He rolled over, and pressed his face into the pillows, needing to feel the oxygen being taken from his brain, needing to feel the struggle to survive, he'd have stayed in that position forever if it hadn't been for the very real cry he heard coming from downstairs. He jerked up in time to hear the second distressed shout from below, getting off the bed he grabbed his gun and raced down the stairs, his heart pumping faster then it probably should, anger already taking hold at the idea that anyone dared to hurt Kort again for the third time in one day, the second time in his own house. Whoever it was, was going to die. He could feel his protective nature take over, and as he raced into the living room and did a once over he stopped for a minute confusion fogging his mind up before looking at Kort who was writhing and shouting still. He was throwing his limbs everywhere, trying to get away from something, his face was scrunched up in pain, sweat dripping from his forehead as pitiful pleas for mercy tumbled from his lips in heart-wrenching cries. Gibbs sucked in a breath suddenly, it was painful to breathe like a sharp knife that sliced through his ribs and right into his lungs. Kort was usually a fitful sleeper, he didn't move, he always breathed deeply and his face was always relaxed. Kort had told him the next morning that he lost the ability to dream the moment he joined the agency. Now it was quite apparent that the ability had re-manifested itself, at the worst of times.

He lowered his weapon, and walked over to Trent, leaving his gun on the coffee table, he nearly doubled over when Kort flung out his hand and it hit him in the groin. Wincing he bent over Kort and put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. He felt a strange heaviness take residence in his gut when he saw the tears running down Kort's cheeks. If Deston hadn't died earlier, he would have killed him right then and there, Gibbs fury slammed back full force as he saw the man before him struggle and cry out. He felt his heart twinge at the sight of the broken man in front of him.

"Kort, Hey come on, Trent. Wake up!" He called gently but loudly, he hit his face a couple times before he grabbed both his shoulders and shook him with more force. Kort's eyes flew open, panic lighting his already over-bright eyes, his breathing was erratic.

"NO!" Trent yelled fiercely shoving him onto the floor. He got up, and found himself staring down the barrel of his own gun. He put his hands up, and stopped moving, his heart racing as he looked into Kort's panicked eyes.

"Trent, look at me. It's me, Jethro. I will not hurt you. I didn't mean to frighten you, you were having a nightmare, I was trying to wake you. I would never hurt you." He said softly, his eyes piercing into Kort's, wanting him to see who he was. It was obvious Kort was still in the nightmare from the confused look he was giving him, he swallowed as Kort drew back the safety.

"N-no. You're trying to trick me. I know you are." Trent said uncertainly, his eyes showing his confusion. The gun was shaking, along with Kort who still had tears slowly trekking their way down his hollowed cheeks. His heart skipped a beat as he took his chances, he put a hand quickly on the gun and forced it down, he saw Kort jerking out of the way but he moved faster and managed to grab Kort's face with both of his hands, cupping his face tightly he brought their foreheads together and bored into Kort's eyes.

"I will not hurt you. Trent it is me. Look at the room you are in, look at who I am. You are ok. I will not hurt you or let you be harmed." He whispered gently, he repeated this mantra until he heard the gun drop; Kort shuttered his eyes and took a ragged breath in before letting a sob escape from him. He drew his knees up to his chest; they both had somehow landed on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. He backed off, giving him some space, he watched sadly as Trent drew in tighter around himself, he had never seen the man so broken with his knees and legs directly to his torso and his chin resting on his knees, his arms around his legs. He would have laughed at the sight, but under the circumstances he just wanted to cry. He slid down next to Kort, feeling his trembling. He felt rather than saw Kort scoot away from him, he sighed.

"I…I feel so dirty. I don't want to….I know how…I just can't…..it hurts and I can't sleep because they come after me in my dreams as well." Kort said brokenly looking away. He moved in front of Kort who looked up at him, he put a hand on his shoulder and when he didn't draw back he drew Kort into a loose but firm hug, holding onto him so that he wouldn't slip away into some dark abyss that anyone on the edge could easily slip into. Kort's face was buried in his shoulder, he could feel him heaving trying not to spill the tears his body and mind needed so much to release, it hurt him even more to see this man struggling to not cry. To not show weakness, to not show how they had hurt him. "It's ok Trent, you have to let it go, it's the first step to moving on, to coping. Just let it go."

It surprised him that Kort continued to struggle, it not only pained him but he knew it would hurt Trent in the long run if he didn't cry tonight. He almost smiled at the irony that he was the one always trying to diffuse emotions and keep the people he worked with together and here he was encouraging Trent Kort to cry. He felt his heart constrict as he heard the struggling, conflicted cries Kort was making, "It's ok Trent. I'm here. You can let go. This won't leave this room." With that, he cradled the back of Kort's head much like he had his old friend's years back when he had developed Paranoid Schizophrenia. And with that, the dam broke and Trent let go of the tears he had been holding back, he held him as he sobbed and wetted his shoulder, until long after the tears had dried. They sat on the cold hardwood floor for two and a half hours before Trent stopped crying, and another half hour before he fell asleep still leaning against Gibbs. He didn't let Trent go, just repositioned himself and held Kort tighter, until he too fell asleep.

Gibbs woke first in the morning, with a stiff neck and cramped arms that were still wrapped loosely around Kort, who was still out cold, leaning against him. He smiled and drew his knees up and rested them against his table, he took his chance to watch Kort sleep peacefully, his muscular chest rising and falling, his face relaxed in sleep and peaceful looking. He studied Kort: how his shoulders sloped down and how his chest had felt against him last night, or the way his back curved and the near six-pack he had. Not to mention his ass, was quite nice especially when he was bending down and in leather. He felt shivers go up his back before clamping down on his feelings. It wouldn't be the first time he found himself attracted to a male, but it certainly was the first time he found himself falling for the man's mind as well as his body, he hadn't been so attracted to a man since his last stint with one ten years ago. But that's all it was a stint, he had merely been physically attracted to him, for years afterwards he thought that he could never fall in love with a man, that he just liked them for the rough sex. It had only been two weeks but it felt like a lifetime, he wasn't ready to call it love yet but it was something.

The only problem was that Kort may not feel the same, may not appreciate him crushing his lips between his, slipping his tongue in that mouth cutting off that sexy accent as he explored every inch of Kort. Even if Kort was, by some blessed twist of fate, gay that didn't mean he'd be attracted to an old shriveled up marine such as himself. That's even if he was gay, he knew he shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, especially after what happened with Kort. He tightened his grip on the man in his arms and decided to treasure the time he got to hold the man while he could. Breathing in his scent, feeling the weight of Trent against him, he put his hand on the side of Trent's face and stroked it lovingly, tracing the features, memorizing them, he reveled in the feel of Kort's skin under his fingers. He let his eyes wander downward to his chest imagining lavishing his velvet skin with kisses, running his hands down his body and making every millimeter his. He shivered as he imagined what he would do to Kort if he had a chance to. He didn't notice himself becoming aroused as he undressed Kort with his eyes until he felt the ache, and by then it was too late. He wouldn't jerk off so close to Trent and he didn't want to wake the man either. He started thinking of anything to make him go down again but no matter what happened all he could think of was Kort's naked body.

Suddenly a voice beside him spoke up, he froze in fear for a second before hearing Kort say, "So you did see something you like." Gibbs shivered as Kort said it in a husky purr, his voice heavily accented, he watched his lips move wanting nothing more then to claim them.

"Trent, I'm sorry, it's not what it looks like. I wasn't going to do anything." He said slightly embarrassed to be caught.

"I know. I'd have shot you if you had tried anything." Kort said quirking his lips before continuing, "It is okay Jethro. I just didn't know you batted for the other side."

"Only since my third wife attacked me with a baseball bat." He replied giving Kort a smile.

"Ah you're a convert huh?" Trent said smoothly

"Uh-huh." He said smiling. He felt Trent's hand on his thigh, which aroused him more, he nearly groaned but instead tensed as it traveled upwards and neared his arousal. He grabbed Kort's hand and squeezed. "You don't have to do this Trent."

"I want to. You've done enough for me, I can return the favor." Kort replied.

"No. I did all of that not because I was attracted to you or anything but because you are my friend. Not like this Trent, not right now." He said, he wanted Kort, he would have taken him right then and there if he didn't think it would hurt Kort, but it would. Gibbs knew exactly what was going through his mind, but him, putting his own member in Kort would not erase or take away the feel of the other men, Kort had to learn that he wasn't owned by anyone even if they had put their member in him. If he was to fall into temptation now he would be no better then Deston and his men, and he would be breaking his promise to never hurt the man before him.

"You don't want me anymore?" Kort said in a tone of disappointed acceptance.

"I'll always want you. But after what you've been through you need time. And there's no need to rush a good thing. I ain't goin' nowhere's. Not without you anyways." He said squeezing Trent's hand, as he stood up and helped him up. Trent quirked his lips again and nodded silently.

"Shower for you. I am cooking breakfast." He said.

"Please, try not to burn the house down this time." Kort said dryly, he smacked him in the head like he did his co-workers before starting on breakfast with a huge smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note-- This chapter took me forever to write. I started at 1:12 AM and finished at 8:15 AM. So I'm sorry for any mistakes on my part. Hope you like this one.**

He had turned the shower on full blast, at the hottest it would go, ignoring the flames that seemed to be hitting his skin he focused on cleansing himself. It was only the morning after what had happened and he could still feel Armand in him. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his face, heard his voice, felt a presence come closer behind him. Cold chills went up his back, fear blossomed in his chest as he swiveled around and pressed himself against the wall looking around wildly, he moved the curtain aside to find nothing. He breathed out slowly trying to catch his breath and calm himself. He turned back into the warmth, still listening just in case someone was in there with him. He ran a hand over his face and sighed, trying to bring his mind to the present. His lips twitched as his mind flickered over waking up this morning in Gibbs' arms, leaning on his chest, and staring down at his erection. He sat there for a while just breathing and relaxing, taking in the warmth and caring while he could. He didn't want to move from where he sat, safe in another man's arms. He had never once been held in his entire life and after a while he didn't want to be held, didn't want to be touched by others; if he didn't want it it wouldn't hurt so much when it never happened. However, sitting there today, a grown man, he felt some of his walls just crumble at how amazing it felt to let his guard down and let someone hold him.

He knew it was not only for his comfort that Gibbs held him but also for his own comfort; he had seen the guilt and pain in Gibbs eyes, could sense the want to protect and comfort. He could feel the man dying to hold him and take away his pain, and he had given in, at the time more for Gibbs then himself. He had always considered the need to be cared for a sign of weakness, however if Gibbs hadn't been there the last few days he probably wouldn't have made it. He could still feel the dark pull; he kept ignoring it focusing on Gibbs, pushing back the tears that threatened to take over again. Gibbs was a mystery to him, not in the sense he didn't know who he was but in the sense he didn't know someone like him could exist to him; Gibbs was able to make him smile more than some people had in their lifetime, he comforted him, and tried to protect him. He watched his back and cared for him; talked with him and bantered with him. And he was attracted to him; he'd have never guessed Gibbs was gay or that he could possibly be attracted to him, but waking up to see just how much Gibbs wanted him had turned him on and made him realize just how Gibbs felt. He winced thinking about how Gibbs had rejected him, he knew Gibbs was right, but it still hurt, no matter how much he told himself it was for the best he couldn't get the voice out of his head that kept telling him that he was a worthless, broken, whore that nobody would want. Not even Gibbs and the man was attracted to him.

He blinked back tears thinking that even if Gibbs wanted him it wasn't fair to offer him his dirty body, not when someone had already been in there, someone so dirty and disgusting. He didn't want it to contaminate Gibbs. He put his forehead against the wall knowing it didn't make sense, he knew what he was thinking was wrong they had been trained to deal with getting raped when he first joined the agency, but that didn't mean he was prepared, or that just because he knew something he didn't feel differently. How could Gibbs ever want him after what they had done? After what he had let them do? How could he even let Gibbs have him? Pushing aside the fear and sickness he felt at the idea of sex at the moment, he knew it wasn't fair. They had taken so much from him, not only his virginity and security, but also his chance to be with someone he wanted to be with. Because he did want to be with Gibbs, he had realized he liked the man since he had come to him for help the night of the three rapes. The feeling had just grown stronger over the last few weeks, his desire hard to keep in line at first, he wanted so badly to lavish Gibbs with kisses and love, wanted to pound into him and make him his for good. And forever. And now that he had his chance it was stolen away from him; he could never have the one man he had fallen for, the only person he had ever felt even a faint stirring of love for.

It wasn't fair, he knew it sounded childish but it just wasn't. He bit his lip trying hard not to punch something and put a hole in Jethro's wall. He had been able to jerk off while picturing Gibbs in his mind, but every time he tried to now all he could see was Armand's face. It was frustrating to not be able to even secretly perform for the man he had fallen for. He was humiliated even if no one was there to see it, shame ran through him. He would never be the same, he knew it, and so did Gibbs. He wasn't the same man Gibbs fell for and it would only be fair if he left the man so he was free to find someone who was worthy of him. Even if they hadn't ever talked, and said the magic words that made them a couple, it was taken for granted they were. For all he knew Gibbs could just want a quick fuck and that's it. Yet he had turned down the excellent opportunity this morning, so perhaps he did want something more, but after everything he didn't know if he wanted a relationship. It sounded irrational but all he could think of when he thought about a relationship was just him being raped every night of his life, and it being ok. It made no sense, but that's all it was to him at the moment. He feared he'd just be a sex toy. He shook his head, it wasn't Gibbs' style but he couldn't help feeling that way.

The man had promised not to hurt him, yet the comfort of being held hurt more than anything, even the rape. He'd have been able to ignore the brutal, cold reality of the atrocity if Gibbs' hadn't offered solace, but the comfort he basked in was just another proof that it really did happen, that it was for real. And now he had to give up everything; the only good thing was that he still had his job, yet even that he might not have for long. He couldn't go on masquerading as a high-class criminal constantly surrounded by men such as Armand and Deston when he flinched at even the idea of being around another man that wasn't Gibbs. He felt the life he knew slipping through his fingers, anger overtook him once again as he realized how the men had not only raped him but destroyed his entire life, they had taken his world and shattered it, and they had laughed. Suddenly he was tied to the bed again, their laughs and jeers surrounding him as he felt the other man's hot and hard cock in his ass against his will, moving in and out, his eyes closed as he prayed and begged any god that was listening for it to stop. Minutes that seemed like years passed as the man kept abusing his body without remorse, moaning his pleasure in between jabs about how tight he was and how he'd enjoy doing this over and over and over again. It seemed like forever before he felt the man come inside of him, spurting his hot seed into his ass, he felt his stomach churn. Feeling as if it kept leaking upwards into his gut, infecting his blood, puke rushed up his throat and he threw up all over the pillow, the men laughed as they left him to smell not only his own vomit and the smell of sex but also their own liquids. The men watching had jerked off; one had even came all over his back. While another had pissed on him.

He opened his eyes wide, trying to escape, half-expecting to see the men in the shower with him he turned, his stomach in an uproar, as fear constricted his heart and then made it race faster. He swallowed, blinking back tears of terror and desperation. They were soon followed by tears of frustration and anger, resentful of the fact that he couldn't even take a shower without thinking about them, he jumped as he felt something hot drip into his ass, his stomach turned over inside him and before he knew it he was running out of the shower without moving the curtain aside. His feet tangled in the plastic before he slipped and fell, bringing both the curtain and the rod down with it, and a shelf full of bathroom supplies, his stomach twisted again and before he knew it puke was spewing forth from him. It was a second later he registered the pain in his head that caused his now blurry vision, he looked around the spinning room, steam filled the place, but all he could smell was his own vomit and blood as he laid naked on the floor at the based of the sink, the curtain half covering him as the water continued to run. He blinked thinking that he may never be able to take a shower in that bathtub ever again. His head began to pound, moaning in pain a sudden vibration made it feel like his skull was being cleaved in half. He winced as the door was thrown open, he felt someone coming closer to him, closing his eyes he prayed it was Gibbs, and that he'd just leave him alone for five minutes so he could get himself sorted.

"Trent!" Gibbs said he almost let himself smile as he heard the concern and slight worry and fear in his voice. He grimaced as Gibbs stepped over him, he felt Gibbs standing over him, his mind went blank as he saw him reaching down before his mind blew up in panic. He brought his leg up and kicked him hard right between the legs, he scooted himself back into the wall, covering the cut on his head he huddled against the wall and watched Gibbs kneel, his hands covering his groin. He knew it was Gibbs some where's deep inside but it didn't register with his mind, all he could think of was the men coming for him again, they said they would.

"Get out! Just get out! NOW! GO!" He yelled hysterically.

"Trent it's me. Look at me. You are safe. I will not hurt you." Gibbs tried soothing him, but he was having none of it.

"Then leave!" He yelled desperately.

"I can't do that, you have a nasty bump on your head. I gotta take a look at it." Gibbs said calmly.

"Let me get dressed! Just get OUT!" He yelled again, Gibbs sighed and walked out, he heard Gibbs lean against the wall just outside the bathroom, staying on the floor he managed to get his briefs and pants on and his shirt and tie before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving the mess for Gibbs to clean. He staggered to a halt in front of Gibbs, slightly swaying as the throbbing in his head made itself known again. He had used the time in the bathroom to clear his mind and calm himself, but the jittery fear was still there. He flinched back when Gibbs reached out for him, he saw him freeze and just keep his arm there. He watched it before slowly walking towards it and letting Gibbs support him to the kitchen and onto a chair. Neither spoke, as Gibbs wetted a washcloth with warm water and gently and slowly cleaned the bloody cut on the side of his forehead. His ministrations were soothing and comforting, he let the warm dampness relax him as the cloth gently made it's way down his face, cleaning the blood from his face and the vomit around his mouth. He closed his eyes and for once in his entire life let someone else take care of him; a feeling of vulnerability crept up on him then, knowing he was letting Gibbs into territory he had let no other man or woman into. It was bad enough that he had been deemed a victim, someone rape-able by other men, a weak play toy, he was already vulnerable enough he didn't need someone else making him any weaker. Yet he couldn't find the will the push him away, to tell him to stop, to take care of himself.

"May I ask what happened up there?" Gibbs spoke suddenly but calmly.

"You can ask." He said hoarsely, his mouth dry.

"So what happened up there?" Gibbs said playing along.

"Tripped." He said shrugging, not wanting the man to see him anymore weaker then he already was. Who would love a stupid whore like him anyways? Especially one who cried all the time and was afraid of his own shadow?

"Why did you trip?" Gibbs said going along with him.

"Foot got caught up in the curtain." He quipped.

"Why didn't you move the curtain before getting out?" Gibbs asked gently as he sat in a chair facing him, their knees gently touched each other, he could tell the moment they brushed together and stayed together the shudder it sent through Gibbs, he gave an internal smiling knowing he could still turn him on after everything.

"Must of not moved it far enough." He replied. They both knew this was total bullshit but Gibbs was letting him have this for some reason and he would take it.

"The water was still on." Gibbs said. He bit his lip, Gibbs may know that he was bullshitting him but that didn't mean he knew what happened. And it certainly didn't meant he wanted to tell the man.

"It doesn't matter. I'm fine. Let's just move on." He said shrugging and spinning in his chair to face the table but Gibbs put his foot out on the chair, his knee now only inches away from his cock, the friction between the two thighs sending a thrill of excitement and one of fear at the same time. He stopped suddenly and just looked in Gibbs eyes; they screamed 'trust me'. Yet his gut was twisting in knots and he felt the blood pumping faster, but he forced himself to stay put.

"It matters Trent because whatever it was upset you and I want to know what it was." Gibbs said softly looking him in the eyes. He looked away, swallowing, he looked back at Gibbs, into his piercing blue eyes, his usual hard stance softened his eyes full of patience and a gentle worry. His face was set in firm lines; the shirt he wore hugged his form, and made his muscles stand out, his pants hung on him in a way that accentuated his nice ass. He suddenly wanted to run his fingers down the man's face and chest, kissing him until he passed out, he wanted to bite and suck him, to taste every inch of him, he wanted to straddle Gibbs' lap and fuck him senseless as a thank you. Caught up in his fantasies he didn't see the amused smirk that rose on Gibbs lips until it was too late. "Something on your mind Trent."

"Uh-huh." He said huskily his eyes still raking over Gibbs' beautiful body, Gibbs gave a sigh of laughter, smiling as he lovingly caressed his cheek, he leaned into it feeling the want to help coming off Gibbs, he could sense no maliciousness in the man before him, the man that he cared a great deal about whether he showed it or not; he found himself slightly embarrassed that it was Gibbs showing all the signs of care and promised himself that he would be the one to initiate the first kiss.

"And what would that be?" Gibbs said smirking, a glint in his eye that said he knew exactly what he was doing. And at that moment he was undressing Gibbs with his eyes, it was only fair; Gibbs had seen him naked twice.

"I think we both know what I'm thinking about." He said almost in a purr inching closer to Gibbs enough so he could feel Gibbs knee brush against his cock, even that slight contact made him gasp and jerk back in pleasure, he could see Gibbs eyes fluttering shut. He had never had a reaction that strongly in all his life, not with all clothes on. All he could think of was that the sex was going to be mind blowing.

"Yes. I think we do." Gibbs said sitting back. "But that wasn't what we were talking about."

He sighed, his mind instantly going back to what had occurred upstairs, all romantic thoughts switched off. He lowered his eyes a bit before he spoke, "Bad memories. I was just thinking, then it drifted to the first night they raped me and all I could hear were there laughs and suddenly him in me…and coming….then I felt the water and…I got confused…I thought someone was in there with me, I ran…and tripped." He crossed his arms over his chest defensively and sat back in the chair, his gut feeling tight with knots his chest empty and constricted of air and his mind curiously blank, waiting for the blow of rejection, the look of disgust, even the pity. But all he got was Gibbs reaching out and squeezing his shoulder, he relaxed and looked away, Gibbs stood up and said, "You are going to be ok Kort. Even if I have to personally make sure of it." Trent tried to smile to show that he was understood and appreciated but it was a half-hearted attempt, he was curiously numb.

"We're going to have to talk about it in detail. Exactly what they did to you." Gibbs said seriously, he swallowed.

"Why? You know what happened." He said narrowing his eyes. "Want to follow in their footsteps?"

"You know I don't. You won't use that to throw me off again Trent. You can't heal if you keep it bottled up." Gibbs said calmly not rising to the bait this time.

"And why do you care? After tonight I'll be back on my own and out of your hair. I just need to report into my director and I'm coming back here to pack." He said flippantly.

"I care that you heal because I care for you. Maybe even love you Trent. I don't want to see this control your life." Gibbs stated faltering at the L word. He nearly smiled as he remembered the three marriages.

"Was it the second or the third wife that came at you with a 7-iron?" He said amused, Gibbs glared which just amused him more.

"You know damn well it was the second." Gibbs growled.

"Maybe you talked too much." He offered giving him a cheeky smirk.

"Maybe if you don't want to find yourself buried alive you'll shut up." Gibbs said raising an eyebrow.

"Been there done that. Maybe you should take some time off building that boat of yours and use it to come up with something more original?" He suggested, Gibbs smothered a smile.

"You ever think that maybe when I sand the boat I pretend it's your face?" Gibbs said eyebrow arching even higher.

"Maybe I'll just let you sand me down. I think I'd quite enjoy that." He said lifting one corner of his mouth. Getting closer to Gibbs.

"Not as much as I'd enjoy doing it." Gibbs replied warmly. Putting a hand on the back of Gibbs' neck and the other on his upper arm, he placed a gentle kiss on Gibbs' lip, only parting the lips enough to slip his lip in, he filled it with love, caring and a tinge of passion. He rested his forehead against Gibbs and gave a small smile.

"Maybe I should just leave if I'm such a nuisance." He said looking into Gibbs breath-taking piercing baby blue eyes that made him gorgeous all by themselves.

"Maybe you should just shut up and come here." Gibbs said in a warm husky voice before kissing him gently returning the love. Suddenly the stench of something burning wafted through the kitchen and they both pulled apart to look at the stove where smoke was billowing out of, Gibbs got up to turn it off while he shut the fire alarms off before they could respond.

"I told you not to burn the house down." He said smartly.

"The house is still standing the last time I checked." Gibbs countered.

"Our breakfast is burned." He said smoothly.

"And whose fault is that for distracting me?" Gibbs said smirking.

"Your own, you shouldn't be so damn sexy." He purred, Gibbs turned around, he smiled as he saw a faint blush on his cheeks, he snorted in amusement. "Red is very flattering on you."

"I have a crimson suit in the closet." Gibbs said.

"Oh God. That has to be the most hideous, and tackiest suit I've ever come across." He said, Gibbs laughed aloud at that.

"My third wife got me that." Gibbs replied still smiling.

"She should have taken it with her." He said.

"I keep trying to throw it away but every time I do it mysteriously finds its way back to my doorstep." Gibbs explained shrugging.

"Please tell me you never wore it." He said looking at him.

"I didn't." Gibbs said.

"Good. Or I'll have to file for a divorce in advance." He said smirking as he saw Gibbs smile again.

"Just get in the car before I decide to make you walk to work and accidentally run you over." Gibbs said.

"I'm fit to drive by myself Gibbs. I'll see you later." He said getting up and grabbing his keys and coat. Gibbs nodded and finished cleaning up as he left.

**LANGLEY VA.**

He walked with mild confidence through the office, hoping to portray his usual arrogance and toughness to the others while being aware of his surroundings at the same time. He fought the urge to keep looking over his shoulder as he walked by dozens of people on his way to the Director's office, a slight fear crept its way up his throat, constricting it, but he just kept on walking, making his mind focus on counting the steps to the Director's door. Knocking on the door he entered when he heard Roper's voice welcoming him in.

The old man sat behind his desk, which was clear of paper and any sort of information.

"Kort, sit. We haven't seen or heard from you in a few days. Where have you been?" Roper said curiously but with a deadly tone in his steel cold voice.

"With NCIS, Director." He answered just as coldly.

"And why were you with NCIS instead of doing your job?" Roper said leaning forward.

"The mission went south. They found me out. One of their agent's saved me. I worked with them to assassinate the rest of Deston's men, including Deston himself." He replied smoothly.

"You weren't sanctioned to make a hit." Roper said raising an eyebrow.

"I am if they harmed me in any way. Which they did." He said bowing his head slightly.

"You seem relatively fine to me, minus the scrape on your head. I heard you had a hairy trigger but I didn't put it past you to be so petty." Roper replied skeptically.

"They did not harm me in places you can see. They raped me, four times." He said tightly, his voice thin and almost raw. Roper's eyes narrowed.

"Are they all dead?" Roper asked venom dripping from his voice.

"Yes." He answered immediately.

"So you have no proof to back up those claims." Roper said looking him straight in the eye.

"Other then the damage to my body, none." He said curtly, anger pulsing through his veins, after all he had been through the last two weeks and this man dared to insinuate that none of it had happened? He wasn't having that at all.

"And you did nothing to stop it?" Roper went on ignoring what he had just said.

"I couldn't, they tied me up, drugged me another time." He said eyes slitting. He barely was able to sit there under this man's scrutiny, yet the little voice in his head kept chipping in, telling him to listen to Roper, telling him he could have fought back harder, he was a man this wasn't suppose to happen to him.

"Really? They snuck up on a highly trained CIA Agent and just gang banged him, huh?" Roper said disbelievingly.

"Yes sir." He replied through gritted teeth, his own insecurities and vulnerabilities being brought to the forefront making him angrier.

"You didn't just happen to lose your patience or become trigger happy?" Roper continued.

"No sir." He said

"So since you submitted yourself to Deston and his men, you won't mind submitting yourself to an exam?" Roper inquired coldly. His jaw clenched, he burned in shame and humiliation.

"Yes." He whispered harshly, "I will submit to an exam."

"Very well. Get to the Medical office and wait until your examiner arrives, I want you back in this office when you are done with the exam." Roper called after him as he left. He stormed down the hallway, not thinking twice about anything, too angry to be afraid. He nearly slammed the door of the doctor's office before hopping up on the bed and putting his head in his hands, closing his eyes he held onto the picture of Gibbs, remembering how they had kissed, the sense of pure love and ecstasy making his heart race and his mind inflate with air. He smiled a little as he laid back in bed and lost himself in a fantasy of him and Gibbs together. It was nearly half an hour before he heard the door crack open, he nearly blushed in embarrassment as he noticed he had a hard-on. Looking up his eyes widened a bit before narrowing.

"What are you doing here Marcin?" He hissed angrily.

"Trent, missed me I see. Well your Doctor couldn't make it, so I came to see how you were doing myself. Looks like you are doing fine by me, though you claimed to have been raped four times. Well let's see, stand up and pull your pants down." Marcin said his polish accent highly accentuated.

"Fuck you." He growled angrily, "I'd rather be castrated then pull my pants down in front of you. Bastard."

"Kort, we don't get along, that's your fault really. But neither of us have the time to do this. So pull. Your. Pants. Down. Now. Or I can tell the Director you lied. That there was no rape and you just killed those men for your own sick enjoyment. That would be such a career killer now wouldn't it?" Jerek said threateningly.

He glared at him but said nothing, there was nothing to be said, it was either quit or pull his pants down and he be damned if he was going to be chased off his job by four rapists and an old hated professor of his. Getting slowly off the table he undid his belt and stripped down, his erection nearly gone, Marcin smirked at the half-hard cock. "Turn around and bend yourself over the bed." He did as he was instructed, feeling shame take over his being, biting his lip he kept himself in the present as he heard the gloves being snapped on, he could practically feel the man's joy radiating off of him at having him in this position. He waited with dread as he heard Jerek approach, he shivered as an icy but gloved hand was put on the small of his back, holding him in place. It slid down to his crack before separating the cheeks, he closed his eyes tightly and held his breath as Jerek inserted his hand dry and without mercy, he gave a gasp of pain and bit down on a choked cry. He wiggled his finger around his walls looking for tears viciously, making many of them bleed once more as he jabbed them, he could tell Marcin was smiling without even looking at him. He jerked as Marcin went in further he started to protest when he was jabbed again to make him shut up.

He pressed his face in the bed, praying for it to be over soon, trying to keep the flashbacks at bay, as his least favorite CIA co-worker practically shoved his whole hand in his hole. He didn't think it could get any worse until Marcin started doing the mandatory massage to relax the area, while he was thankful in a twisted way that Jerek was 'kind' enough to help him heal faster he'd rather have waited for it to heal on its own. He was humiliated enough the past few days, but it seemed it wasn't over for him, as along with the gentle ministrations Jerek was lavishing on him his own cock betrayed him by getting hard again. His cheeks showed his embarrassment when Jerek laughed cruelly and wrapped his hand around his cock, he jerked up and elbowed Marcin in the face, turning around he punched him and kicked him into the wall before pulling his pants up and buckling them.

"You examined me. Now write your report." He hissed.

"You really need to learn how to play nice with others Trent. I was just trying to help." Marcin said jovially.

"I don't want your help. Just sign the damn papers before I decide to shoot you." He said coldly, watching as Marcin did the paperwork, handing it over he smirked and left. He waited a few minutes before returning to the Director's office slowly, his ass burning and painful. The memories still threatening to attack, his cock aching for relief but he refused to jack off even to Gibbs' face after the encounter with Jerek. He sighed as he took his seat in front of the Director throwing the report in front of him.

"So I see. Marcin said you had some rough sex." Roper read with his glasses.

"It was rape. I did not consent." He said pissed again.

"And we only have your word to go on with that. I'm benching you until further notice." Roper said coldly. He nodded and opened the door.

"Anything you want to say to me Kort?" The old man asked.

"Yeah. I hope you burn in hell." He said as he snipped the door shut. Shaking in anger, outrage and violation he got in his car gingerly and drove back to Gibbs' place, determined to wait for him there.

**GIBBS' POV.**

It had been a short day, there were no new cases, so they just continued to work on catch-up paperwork and the few cold cases they had. They hadn't made much headway with the cold cases but the paperwork was nearly done, it was the worst part of the job, yet well worth taking down scumbags. He pulled into his driveway taking into account the silver car parked out front, walking in the door he was met with a dark living room, he was nearly to the kitchen when he realized someone was on the couch. He dropped his things in the corner and looked at Kort, bent over, his head in his hands, a look of lost despair and confusion on his face, pain and betrayal in his eyes. He knew instantly that things hadn't gone as hoped at Langley. He sat quietly next to Kort, placing a hand on his shoulder he sighed inwardly as Kort flinched.

"What happened Trent?" He spoke softly.

"I don't want to talk about it." Kort said pleadingly, turning his eyes on him, he could read the plead in his eyes, could feel that Kort needed comfort and reassurance. Without another word, he slipped his arm around Kort's shoulder and leaned back. He smiled a little when Kort settled back as well and inched closer to him.

"Do you love me Jethro?" Trent asked suddenly.

"Yes." He said without hesitation.

"Good." Kort said choked up.

"Trent?" He asked curiously. The man just shook his head and smiled sadly.

"I've been suspended." Kort said shrugging. He tensed and scowled.

"On what basis?" He asked angrily.

"That there's no proof of rape. The examiner said my tearing was caused by rough sex." Kort answered thickly.

"It is not your fault Trent; don't let any of them trick you into thinking that." He growled angrily, tightening the arm around his shoulders, trying to draw Kort to him and protect him from the world. Kort let himself be drawn as a single tear slipped out; wiping it away, he leaned on Gibbs trying to draw strength from him.

"I don't want to be alone tonight." Kort said with anguish.

"You won't have to be. You can stay with me as long as you wish."

With that, the two spent the entire night sitting on the couch comforting one another.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been two hours since he had came home to a troubled Kort huddled on his couch; he had expected to find him gone and was slightly relieved and happy to see him even under the circumstances. He had slowly watched the sun go down as he sat back and held Kort who refused to tell him what exactly had happened, but he had an idea. He sighed and winced as his stiff neck protested its position, he glanced at Kort who was still staring off into space his face taut, his eyes pained and lost, standing up he pulled Trent with him. His heart constricted at the sight of the man before him, he gently guided him up the stairs and into his room. The minute they stepped into the room Trent became more lively, he kept pushing him forward but Kort fought him.

**TRENT'S POV.**

The minute he saw the bed the nonsensical fear that had been consuming him for the past few weeks rose, bringing with it the men's voices and the memories of their hands. He closed his eyes trying to breathe when suddenly hands were pushing him to the bed; his mouth went dry as he started to fight back, trying to pull away, to push Gibbs away. He turned around ready to bolt from the room only to find Gibbs blocking the door; he swallowed in fear as he backed up. Gibbs came forward and he flinched. He didn't know what was going on, why he was doing this to him. He thought he could trust Gibbs, he didn't think he would do this to him. He turned to run into the bathroom when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and hefted him into the air, he kicked out, struggling to get out of his grasp.

"No! Gibbs please! No don't! Don't do this to me! Please!" He begged desperately, but his words fell on deaf ears as Gibbs silently placed him on the bed and held him down, with a knee on his chest, Gibbs started undressing him while he kept pleading. "Please Gibbs….Jethro don't. Don't do this. Please…..I'll do anything, anything but this please….." He continued to struggle futilely, his eyes wide with fear and betrayal, tears gathering in them, it was then he caught Gibbs' cold blue eyes staring down at him with a burning desire and he swallowed, more tears forcing their way up as he saw the hungry look in the man's eyes. He felt a sob rise, as he lost all hope of escape or mercy, he felt the rest of his strength leave his body as he just went limp and closed his eyes, letting the tears slip down his cheeks like a waterfall. He knew the less he struggled the sooner it would be done with and less damage would be done to his body; he just had to relax into it, even if every instinct was screaming at him to fight it. He could feel himself shaking and trembling under Gibbs's weight, so he knew that the man on top of him could as well, he bit his lip as he felt Gibbs' rough calloused hands on his shoulders slip down and underneath his muscle shirt, trying to contain his own cries he waited for Gibbs to begin.

"Shh….Trent listen to me. I will not hurt you. I am never going to hurt you." Gibbs said soothingly.

"Then why are you doing this to me? I….I…thought…" He said unable to finish the sentence.

"Trent I am not going to rape you. I'm not going to force you to have sex. All I want is to give you a massage. Just your back." Gibbs said as he leaned down and put his face against his. "I didn't mean to frighten you; I hoped you had enough trust in me for this. But it's obvious you don't." With that, Gibbs climbed off of him and laid on the opposite side of the bed, as far away from him as he could.

"What was I suppose to think?! You led me to your bedroom, forced me onto a bed and climbed on top of me and started to strip me!" He yelled, his throat tearing as the terror he had felt burst forth, causing his body to seize up into one whole body cramp. He whimpered in pain, unable to escape it, he watched Gibbs roll back on his side to check on him. Gibbs eyes were angry, betrayed, but upon seeing him in pain they faded as concern took their place. Gibbs crawled over to him and bent his limbs and straightened them out, massaging them gently. He looked at the silver-haired man above him, never taking his eyes off of him and felt a thread of shame wash over him, he blinked back more tears and just turned over when Gibbs was done. He still trembled slightly as he felt Gibbs sink into his side of the bed. He lay tense as a rod as he listened to Gibbs drift off into a peaceful slumber. He felt tears of guilt and shame rise in him again, he let them pour down his face, wishing Gibbs had comforted him instead of coldly turning his back on him, but he knew it was his fault, he knew he didn't deserve the comfort. He was just a stupid whore who had just slapped the one person who cared for him in the face.

He lay there wondering if Gibbs was ever going to forgive him, any other time he would have said yes in a heart beat but when Gibbs had turned his back on him it had hurt so badly, much worse then he thought it ever could. Gibbs had never done that no matter what had happened he was always there; even when he was trying to push Gibbs away he wouldn't go and now he was finally gone. Probably for good because he just couldn't do anything right, he couldn't keep his job, couldn't do his job, couldn't stop his emotions from erupting all over the place, couldn't keep his legs closed, and he couldn't stop from hurting the people he cared about.

He didn't know how long he laid there that night but he knew it was more than a few hours, he couldn't see anything right, everything seemed blurred even though his tears dried up a long time ago. He could still feel his body trembling violently, he just hoped when Gibbs woke he would ignore him; he deserved the pain he was in. He couldn't sleep, but he didn't want to either, they always hurt him in his dreams, hunted him, and he couldn't get away. He didn't trust himself to sleep; he didn't trust Gibbs to be there if they attacked him again. The way things were going he doubted Gibbs would even wake him; he'd probably move him off the bed and into the hallway and shut the door. A little part of him wished Gibbs would wake up and see the state he's in and wrap his arms around him from the back and comfort him, but he just shook his head; that wasn't going to happen and even if it did he didn't know if he could handle it. He wanted so badly to be done with the pain and anger, the guilt and shame. He just wanted to be better again, he wanted to be able to love Jethro and let Jethro love him without any fear. Without the terror that consumed both of their lives. He felt a sudden wave of rage at the world, at the people who did this to him, who had torn not only his life apart but also Gibbs', at his boss for not having his back like he should have, he even felt a deep seated rage at Gibbs for not protecting him the last time he was raped.

He hadn't deserved what he got, maybe to be killed, tortured even, but he didn't do anything that warranted getting raped multiple times. He didn't understand why, didn't understand how this could happen, and all for what? His job, for secrets and weapons. This was the price they paid for their jobs, for the life they lived and he no longer knew if it was worth it. Everything had seemed so certain, he was so sure of his life but now, only weeks later, he didn't even know which way was up anymore and what was real and what wasn't. There were moments the pain got so bad it overwhelmed him and his world went dark, sometimes he'd try suffocating himself with a pillow until he passed out, he'd cry and cry over the smallest things. Sometimes he'd go down to the ranch just to shoot things, to release the rage he had bottled up deep inside, sometimes he stayed up at night staring at the ceiling as he fantasized about the perfect way to get revenge, starting with torturing them, painfully and slowly. Sometimes he wouldn't eat cause he felt so sick, he'd refused to eat until he could feel hunger pains, he would drive faster then he should, taking dangerous detours and even more hazardous back roads where Gibbs even refused to go. He'd do anything to feel numb, anything to feel ok, and anything to feel alive again.

He felt a ray of desperate hope as the first bit of sunshine lightened the room, he tried to squash it but it wouldn't go away. He felt the other end of the bed move and then it got lighter, sighing as he heard the bathroom door close, he waited another thirty minutes before Gibbs came out fully dressed and ready for work. He was still hanging onto the needle thin strand of hope that Gibbs would acknowledge his presence, his eyes widened a fraction when Gibbs turned around and met his eyes but it was a brief glance that took into account the dark circles under his eyes and then it was over, Gibbs left. It was only minutes later he heard the door open and close and his car leave the driveway. With that his last hope left, he had been in fights with lovers before but not over something like this, not over something that hurt him so deep. Pushing himself off the bed stiffly, he got up, his legs shaky and feeling like jell-o he slowly made his way down the stairs and onto the couch. He knew what he had to do, for both Gibbs and himself. Gibbs would be better off without him, he was sure, he could have someone who would love him without holding anything back, who could meet all his needs, someone who was left difficult and had less scars and baggage on him. Gibbs deserved that. Sitting down he took a piece of paper and pencil and began to write.

_Jethro,_

_I know I hurt you last night when I freaked out; I never meant to do that, just as you would never hurt me I would never hurt you, I guess neither one of us can believe that anymore. I don't know how it happened or why, but I fell in love with you. Sometimes at night, when I can't sleep, I sit up and wonder if I had never been raped would we have ever discovered our love for one another? Would we have found different people or died alone? I wonder if what happened to me was the price I had to pay for you, I wonder if it was worth it. I know you wouldn't want me hurt on your account, but if I had to choose right now, between you and I; I'd rather it be me getting raped then you. I would bite the bullet for you, because I love you with everything I have. You're all that I have Jethro. I'm not use to writing, saying or even thinking such sentimental things even when it's true; but it doesn't matter anymore because you no longer want me. That's ok, you deserve better than me anyhow. I just want to thank you for everything you've done for me._

_All those nights you spent trying to get me to sleep, comforting me, and protecting me, cooking for me and making me laugh. These past few weeks have been hell but also heaven because I had you. But now that you're gone I have no reason to stick around. I'm sorry things couldn't have been different between us, you have no idea how much I wanted it to work. I've been alone for so long, I have had no one and to find you was the greatest blessing of all. I know it's my own fault that you are no longer interested in me, and like I said I blame you for nothing. I just wish I could have been better, been stronger. I just wanted to love you with everything without holding back, without being so scared. But it seems virtually impossible and that's not fair to you. You deserve better. I'm sorry I couldn't say this all to your face but you seemed in a hurry to get out of here, you hardly even looked at me; and I didn't want to leave you without saying something. _

_Without saying this: I'll always love you no matter what. Forever. You're the only one for me Gibbs, and I will always be faithful to you, even now that it's over. You go find someone to love you and take care of you. Don't worry about myself, I'm CIA, I'm use to taking care of myself. Time to put on my big boy pants again and forget everything that's happened, I will only take two things with me, my love for you and the memory of our first kiss. Don't keep all the bad memories, toss them out, do what you must but be well Jethro. I wish you all the luck in the world, and I give you all my love._

_Trent._

With that he put the letter on the coffee maker and gathered his belongings, it took all of ten minutes to get his stuff and get out of there. It took seventy more to get to his apartment. Walking in he aimlessly threw his things all over the place. He couldn't feel anything inside or out, it's like all his nerves were severed, he didn't see anything, he was a drone as he collapsed on his own bed and stared mindlessly out the window. They hadn't even gotten started and it was already over, all because of his stupid emotions. He was usually in more control, of the situation and his emotions, now everything seemed to be taken from him. Everything was spinning out of control and he was frustrated that the only thing he could change was his clothes. He had tried so hard for nothing, he failed. And now he had nothing. His career was over, his short-lived romance was over, he had no friends, he had no family. He had pain, guilt, shame, regret, sorrow, loss, and no hope. There was nothing left for him, sure he could get a job at the FBI or NCIS, even the NSA but for what? He couldn't go back to his old life, not after what happened, not after he fell in love.

He lazily took out a gun from his bedside drawer and sat up in the bed, resting his back and head against the head board, his knees drawn to his chest. He couldn't keep doing this, the pain was engulfing him, the only reason he had held on so long was because of Gibbs and now he was gone too. He didn't want to go on, he didn't want to keep having nightmares and flashbacks, he didn't want to feel them inside of him. He was dirty, that's all he could feel, he tried bleaching himself but Gibbs had caught him, nothing helped. They took everything from him. He felt his airway closing off, a lump in his throat choking him up, tears sprang to his eyes as the feeling of an unwanted cock in his ass and cruel laughs came upon him. He couldn't live hearing those voices, the laughs, the taunts, the shameful words. He just couldn't.

He took a breath.

He raised the gun.

He put the cold barrel under his mouth.

He whispered, "I'm sorry. God I'm so sorry."

And he pulled the trigger.

**TBC.**

**A/N--I know it's short but I just wanted to post for ya. ****J**


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs sat at his desk staring at the reports from his team, sipping his coffee he tried to force himself to concentrate but all he could think of was the look on Kort's face when he had left that morning, that lost, miserable, desperate, forlorn look that made his heart constrict and made the guilt nearly impossible to ignore. Ever since he left that morning, he itched to make a call home, to tell Kort everything was okay with them but each time he held the phone in his hand he couldn't dial the number, not knowing if they were ok. He wanted Kort to trust him, he knew it would take a while for everything to settle down, but Trent had never reacted to him like that before; it was like a punch to the gut and he just couldn't look at the man. He knew it wasn't Trent's fault but that didn't stop it from hurting. He knew being pissed at the man wouldn't help him, that it would only serve to push Trent farther away from him and that would hurt them both in the end. He sighed, knowing the question was what was more important to him; being right or Trent?

He ran a hand over his face the guilt making him feel nauseas; he had promised Trent he wouldn't go anywhere's, that he would always be there for him and then last night when Trent had needed him he had freaked out and left him to suffer in silence only feet from him. He knew the man had stayed up afraid and hurt, he had read the betrayal in his eyes, it disturbed him however that there was understanding in Kort's eyes as well. He didn't know how many times he had told his lover that it wasn't his fault for what happened, the message had clearly not sunk in though. He turned his attention back to their reports, blinking as he tried to focus, but his mind kept flashing back to Kort's face; suddenly a horrible feeling ran through him. A huge ball of ice made itself at home in his gut as it twisted uncomfortable, he jerked his head up quickly, scanning the room, turning his eyes on his team he looked at each one carefully, finding nothing wrong with them, he got up before realizing that the feeling was for Kort. Just then the phone rang, picking it up he nearly shouted, "What?!"

Only seconds later he was slamming the phone down, telling his team to gear up, and before he could think about it he walked up to his Senior Field Agent and said in a low voice, "I need you to check on Kort. I got a bad feeling." Tony just nodded quietly and made his way silently out of the building. He prayed; hoping everything was fine.

**WITH TONY.**

He walked into the overly clean and empty apartment; he quietly made his way through the rooms praying that Gibbs' gut was wrong for once. He didn't particularly feel like dealing with Kort, let alone an emotional one; he still didn't like the man but he felt a smidgen of sympathy for him, which irritated him to no ends. He froze as he heard the click of a gun, the sound of a safety being removed, his blood froze in his veins even though his heart started to beat faster. He ran to the bedroom as fast as he could, sure that's where the sound was coming from, barging in he saw Kort with the gun in his shaking hands, his finger on the trigger. A lump formed in Tony's throat, without thinking he jumped on top of Kort, taking him by surprise, he knocked the gun to the side but not before Kort pulled the trigger. Both Tony and Trent sat back trying to see if they were dead, it took nearly thirty seconds to realize that both of them were fine, it was then that Kort put the gun back to his head and Tony sat in front of him, his hand resting on Kort's knee.

"Trent you don't want to do this." He said calmly.

"Actually DiNozzo I'm sure I do." Kort replied coldly.

"What about Gibbs?" He asked.

"What about him? I'm sure he'll find someone else, someone better." Trent replied even more coolly.

"I don't think so Trent, he loves you, he'd be devastated if you were to do this." He said uncomfortably.

"No he wouldn't. He doesn't love me anymore; I did something stupid last night. He was trying to give me a massage and I freaked out. I'm so stupid, and now he hates me." Kort said lifelessly.

"No, Trent. We both know that that is a normal response for a….rape victim, if anything it's Gibbs' fault, he shouldn't have pushed it. I'm sure he doesn't hate you. He sent me over to check on you. You don't do that for people you don't like." He said trying to reassure the man before him.

"I don't care. I just…I can't deal with this, it hurts too much. I just want to die, for it to go away and even with Gibbs it's not! Just leave me alone, let me die." Kort said brokenly.

"I'm sorry Trent but I can't do that. I can't let you break Gibbs' heart like that." Tony said softly.

"Just shut up! Shut up and go away!" Kort yelled angrily. He just shook his head silently.

"No. Kort, you don't want to do this. You may die but you'll be alone then. You don't want to be alone. Don't do this. Please."

"I have to; I can't keep going like this. I don't want to hear them anymore, or feel them. I don't want to be afraid anymore." Kort said desperately, a wild look in his eyes.

"What do you want Trent, besides to die?" He asked softly squeezing his knee gently.

"I just want Gibbs to love me again. I want to be whole." Trent said vulnerably.

"Gibbs does love you. It's your choice, either die and be alone, or you can live and be with Gibbs. Either way I am not leaving." He said firmly. It felt like hours they just sat there looking at each other, Tony offering what little comfort he could and Kort trying to pull the trigger. Ten minutes nearly passed before Kort let a lot out a strangled cry and dropped the gun. He grabbed it and threw it across the room, before watching Kort curl into himself, he watched unsure as Kort's shoulders began to shake.

"Can this stay between us?" He heard Kort whisper hoarsely. He merely sat by Kort's side and put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. They sat there for another half hour before Trent finally drifted off to sleep, Tony sighed and got up, repositioning Kort on the bed more comfortably and throwing a blanket over his shivering form he left the room. Sitting on the couch he made the call that he had been dreading to make.

"Gibbs."

"Hey boss, you were right something was wrong." He said tonelessly.

"What is it? Is he alright?" Gibbs asked concerned.

"Yeah now he is. He tried to kill himself. I got there just in time. Talked him down, he's sleeping now; I think you should come over. He thinks you don't love him or want him anymore." He said gently, biting his lip.

"On my way." With that Gibbs hung up.

**WITH GIBBS.**

It took him nearly twenty-four minutes to get to Kort's apartment; he pushed his car to its limits, getting himself nearly killed in the rush to get to his lover. He barged in, staring at DiNozzo who was pointing in the direction of the bedroom. Walking in he found Kort on the bed tossing and turning in sleep. He sighed guilt still overwhelming him, he slipped into bed next to the man he loved more than life itself and pulled him to his chest. He wrapped his arms around Trent's suffering form, wanting to comfort and protect him from everything. One hand cradled the back of Kort's head to his chest, while the other held tightly to his back, his hold like a vice. He could feel himself trembling with relief, not taking the rise and fall of Trent's chest against his for granted, he felt himself able to breathe once again as he stared at the beautiful creature in his arms. The most precious thing in his universe, the single most important person in his life and he had almost lost that today because of his childish foolishness. He stroked the back of Trent's head gently as he took in his scent, memorizing it. He would never let go of the man in his arms again, too afraid that if he did he would lose him for sure, his heart had nearly stopped when he heard Trent had almost killed himself.

"Oh Trent. How could I ever not love you?" He whispered in his ear softly, unaware that the man was awake and aware. "I will always love you more than I can say. You are precious to me, you are mine and I will not let you go. Don't ever scare me like that again." He lovingly placed a kiss to the top of Kort's head as he tried to calm his trembling.

"You're shaking." Trent said his voice muffled by Gibbs' clothes.

"You scared me Trent." He whispered hoarsely.

"I told DiNozzo not to tell you." Kort said annoyed.

"I'm glad he did." He replied.

"I……" Kort said before trailing off, pain in his voice.

"I know Trent. I know. I'm sorry. Just don't do it again, I will always be there for you, and if you ever want to do something like that again you call me. I'll come." He said a lump in his throat as he envisioned what he could have found if he hadn't sent DiNozzo when he did. He took a shaky breath in, the fear suffocating him again. He saw Trent raise his head and look him in the eyes.

"Jethro….I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you. It's ok, I'm ok." Trent said as he wrapped his arms around Gibbs. They held onto each other for dear life, he didn't know how long they lay there, but it was nighttime before they were both relaxed and just smiling into each other's eyes. Trent leaned forward and placed a kiss on Gibbs lips, who smiled and kissed back.

**TRENT'S POV.**

Gibbs let Kort have control, as Trent deepened the kiss and viciously assaulted his mouth, a burning passion erupted inside him, as he placed his hands on both sides of Gibbs' face and kissed him, letting his hands travel down to his chest he started to slowly undress Gibbs, his mouth following his hands path as he reverently touched every square inch of Gibbs' muscular, and god-like body. Gibbs laid back, gasping as he felt himself growing hard, the sensations making him want to erupt. He threw Gibbs onto his back before straddling him, a hungry look in his eyes as he rested his hand upon Gibbs broad chest and let it travel slowly down to his erect cock, smiling he grasped it and aligned his own to Gibbs entrance, looking into Gibbs eyes to make sure he wanted this he was driven nearly to the edge as he saw the awe in Gibbs' eyes as he stared at his body. He gently prepared himself and Gibbs, before pushing into him and began making sweet love to him.

**(Snipped out and shortened for NC-17 material.)**

He lay on top of Gibbs, sweat pouring off both of them, his cheek against his lover's chest; he listened to his heart thumping strongly in his chest as he played with the hair. He shivered as Gibbs ran a hand down his back and rested it on his ass as the other one came around and gently rested on his mid-back. He looked up at Gibbs and smiled.

"I wasn't expecting to reach third base so early on." Gibbs said amusedly. Trent laughed outright.

"You got lucky. I was in a mood to put someone in their place." He said placing a kiss softly on Gibbs chest.

"Well you can put me in my place anytime you'd like." Gibbs said, sighing in exhaustion.

"Oh don't worry I plan to. And next time I won't be so gentle." He said.

"You like it rough Trent?" Gibbs said, He tensed, remembering Armand asking him that right before he had taken him, but he pushed it back, he had taken Gibbs. He had made him his. "Trent you ok?"

"Yeah, fine. Just…that was something…they…said." He explained timidly. Gibbs sat up and hugged him, he laughed.

"It is ok Jethro. I know you won't hurt me. But I still remember…it still hurts. But I took you. It's ok. Just, let's get dressed?" He said getting off of him and quickly getting dressed, uncomfortable to be naked any longer and just wanting to be what he deemed safe again. Getting in pajamas he returned to bed with a fully clothed Gibbs and settled his back against Gibbs chest, a warmth filled him as Gibbs threw an arm over him and pulled him closer, and put his face on top of his.

"I love you Jethro." He said nervously.

"I love you too Trent. Sleep."

"Yes, _Sir_." He said smirking.

"You are lucky I'm too exhausted from our extracurricular activities to hit you." Gibbs said.

"Oh I'm so afraid. I'm CIA I could kill you and get away with it. So watch it." He said. Gibbs laughed and nibbled affectionately on his ear.

"You wouldn't." Gibbs purred.

"Push it and you'll find out." He said smiling evilly.

"You'd miss me too much." Gibbs said warmly.

"Yeah I would." He answered looking into Gibbs eyes, who smiled and kissed him gently on the lips.

"I'm glad you didn't do it Trent." Gibbs said in a raw voice.

"I know you are." Trent said in a dead voice. Gibbs frowned.

"But you aren't." Gibbs stated dully.

Shrugging he said, "I'm not sure anymore."

"I know it may seem selfish of me to ask, but hold on for me, ok?" Gibbs whispered softly in his ear.

"I….I'll try. For you." He answered; Gibbs tightened his arms around him, making him smile before he fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a week since they had first made love; it was like a beast had burst forth and had driven them to near oblivion. It had been nearly ten months with no sexual release for Kort, and even longer for Gibbs, all that sexual tension had been building up, just festering and once they cracked the wall the whole dam burst and since that first night they had been making love every night, even some mornings, since. If anyone was to look at them closely they would think that the relationship was simply friends with benefits, but it was so much more; they connected on a level that neither had felt with anyone else. It had been different with Gibbs' first wife, not that Shannon's and his connection was any less important or holding, just different. This was something else entirely though, and they both knew they couldn't live without the other. It was the morning after one of their love making sessions that Kort lay awake, his arms around Gibbs, his nose in the man's silver hair, letting the well-known guilt fester. Guilt because not once this whole week had he bottomed, had he let Gibbs take him, no matter how many times Gibbs parted his legs to Kort, he couldn't return the favor and trust Gibbs with everything. He feared it would bring back memories; he knew Gibbs would be gentle and that he'd stop if he asked him to.

But still, he just couldn't do it; every time he tried to even suggest it his stomach did a cartwheel inside of him. He could see the look in Gibbs' eyes each night, the ache, the want and need, the hunger and desire to ravage him, and yet the man pushed his own needs aside for Kort. It made him appreciate the man even more, he had once upon a time been in a relationship where his other half wouldn't be so patient and if he wanted it he'd get it, if not from Kort from somebody else. He knew he owed it to Gibbs to let him take him, and he wanted to give himself to Gibbs. It just seemed so hard to mutter the simple yes, to give consent, but he knew that Gibbs would wait forever, hell Gibbs would live with him forever and never even expect a yes, never even expect to top and he'd be ok. It made him trust and love the man even more, and _still_ he couldn't just spread his legs. He wanted to force himself to spread his legs and let Gibbs take him; he had even tried it one night with Jethro, he spread his legs and clenched the blankets in his fists and closed his eyes waiting for his lover to come back from the bathroom. He waited nervously to tell Jethro to fuck him, but when his lover entered the room he stood speechless, his mouth open as if to say something but only a strangled whisper came out.

Gibbs had walked across the room and crawled across the bed, he had curled a hand around one of the ones clutching the sheets and squeezed, he had let got of the blankets and held onto the hand, while Gibbs brought the other one to the back of his head. "No Trent. Not like this. Not until you are ready." Gibbs had whispered softly, compassion, understanding and love pouring into that one simple statement.

"I am ready." He choked out.

"No you're not Trent. You are forcing yourself, you don't want this but you are trying to make yourself want it and if I take you right now I'd be raping you. I will not hurt you. In any way. You are too precious." Gibbs said gently, his voice low and gruff.

He had swallowed, feeling self-hatred and frustration boiling up. With his free hand he hit the pillow. "This is so aggravating! I can see the look in your eyes Gibbs, I know you want me. And I want you. I want you to fuck me, it's just whenever I try…..I just…I can't!" He nearly shouted this out muffling it in the pillow. He felt Gibbs begin to stroke his head lovingly.

"It's ok Trent. We can work our way there. It'll be alright. I don't care if I have to bottom for the rest of our lives. I love you no matter what, under any conditions." Gibbs spoke firmly.

"I care because it's not fair to you! What if it's like this for the rest of our lives? I don't want to put you through that. What if I can never bottom?!" He was freaking out, he knew this would lead to a panic attack if he didn't calm down but if he did that he'd end up in tears.

"I'm not thinking about me right now, that's not important. I'm thinking about you. You'll get over this hump, and I'll be right there next to you." Gibbs had spoken softly, sliding down to lay next to him, their foreheads against one another's.

"I'm sorry." He had whispered, a lump in his throat causing his eyes to blur and silent tears to trek sideways down his face.

"Not your fault." Gibbs whispered, kissing the tears away.

It had been the only night they didn't make love, instead they cuddled until they had fallen asleep, but the sex the next morning, in the hot shower was the hottest he had ever had, he fucked Gibbs right into that wall, sure that he had broken it, or had hurt Gibbs. But everything was in one piece, much to his relief. And as he lay in bed contemplating this he felt a warmth blossom in his chest, knowing he was the luckiest man alive to have found Gibbs. He wondered how three wives could have divorced this man; it was always a mystery to him, one he intended to solve eventually. Gibbs had said everything in his life was fair game to Trent, Gibbs had even spoken of Kelly and Shannon to him, and yet he still felt the need to respect the man's privacy, even though he had invaded every other physical aspect of it. Perhaps it was a mutual thing, Gibbs didn't ask questions about his past so why should he question Gibbs? He didn't dread the questions Gibbs could throw at him, he hadn't told anyone about his childhood, or how he came into being a CIA Agent, he'd sooner reveal the first rather than the latter but for Gibbs he'd reveal both. All he had to do was ask. But he never did, he didn't seem interested in anything that wasn't relevant to the here and now, perhaps this was why Gibbs had three failed marriages. He never opened up and shared his past to others. Trent would be sure to not fall into that trap, if he had to torture it out of Gibbs he would, because he wasn't about to be a mistake and regret this his whole life.

"What are you thinking about?" Gibbs spoke suddenly, not one to be surprised he just smiled against Gibbs' head and laid a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck. "You and how lucky I am to have you." He squeezed Jethro's waist tightly to get his message across, and was pleased when Gibbs turned his head around, twisting his body with it so Gibbs' cock brushed against his hand, sending shivers up his spine, and kissed him.

"I think I am the lucky one." Gibbs said giving him a smile. Suddenly the bedroom door swung violently open revealing DiNozzo breathless and staring at them in shock.

"Ugh…um…." Tony started muttering, his mouth open, face slack, body frozen.

"DiNozzo spit it out!" Gibbs snapped sitting up.

"You guys are naked." Tony stated, Kort snorted, Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Good observation DiNozzo, but I was wondering why you felt the need to break down my door at….ten am in the morning." Gibbs said sardonically.

"Well, you're real late to the office. Making sure you were ok…but…uh….you seem…uh…fantastic." The younger man stuttered. Gibbs just glared at him until he backed out of the door and closed it.

"Perhaps we should tell the kids." Kort said wryly, Gibbs snorted and threw a pillow in his face. He smiled and just put his arms over the pillow as Gibbs got dressed quickly, he almost fell back to sleep when his cell rang.

"Kort." He answered.

"Roper. You're needed. Suspensions up. Come in." The man replied curtly.

"Understood. ASAP." He replied hanging up the phone. Gibbs was looking at him questioningly. "My job needs me. Should I feel honored or indignant?"

"Well indignant makes you look like you have a stick up your ass but honored makes you look arrogant, so how about deceptive." Gibbs answered.

"And what does that make me look like?" He asked lightly.

"Well besides sexy; tough." Gibbs answered. "They should pay for putting you on suspension."

"Yeah but the States shouldn't." He argued.

Gibbs nodded. "Sense of duty I didn't know you had Trent."

"There are many things you don't know about me." He muttered darkly, getting dressed as slowly as he dared to with his boss on his back. He really didn't feel like returning, he had been hoping they would keep him off duty for a little bit longer, they were practically on their honeymoon. He grumbled to himself as he holstered his weapon, and stuffed another .45 in his pants; nodding towards Gibbs, they both left to start their day. Neither knew that by the end of the night one of them would legally be pronounced dead.

**We're staying with Trent because let's face it; his work is a lot more cooler then Gibbs'.**

He didn't knock on Roper's door like he usually did, instead he walked right in and sat himself down, he put no energy or effort into glaring at the man, instead he fell into their normal routine of things. He looked mildly curious and a bit bored as he waited for Roper to finish typing and acknowledge his presence. He wondered just what could possibly have gone down that he was needed so urgently for, there never was a shortage of Agents willing to go undercover, the pool was vast, many people dreamed of the spy life only to find it boring and sedentary, not how they expected it to be. Many of the Agents', while passing training, were shit at what they did, they just wanted the title but didn't have what was needed to live up to it. He knew he was one of the best the agency had, he could easily slip into someone else's skin, it unnerved many, sometimes he could see Roper casting him long glances when he walked past his office, or other agents staring confused as he walked to report to Roper what he found out. All of them wondering whose side he was really on. He'd been asked in many different ways many times, but he liked keeping people on their toes and simply evaded the question. There wasn't one person who knew of his true allegiance, and there were days when he didn't even know who he was really working for.

It use to worry him how easily he slipped into different persona's as well but after a while you just can't think; many of the world's problems stemmed from thinking too much, as well as much personal angst. The job was hard enough, no need to add your own psychological torture to it. At the end of the day, when you're all alone, you can't think of the lives you ended, of the betrayal you committed, of the scars you inflicted on not just one person but a whole mass of people. Sometimes an entire civilization of them. All you can do is breathe because anything more than that is too difficult. It was for this reason you distance and detach yourself from your work; you do not get emotionally involved, and view everything as an op. It's easier to kill the Arms' dealer than it is to kill the Father. When the job is done walk away; it was one of the few rules his lover had that he respected, that and never leave home without a knife. Rule number one didn't sit well with him; he had betrayed many partners many times. It was an occupational hazard, especially since the temptation of going rogue was so sweet. He had been called to kill one partner after another, causing him to stay faithful to the States and work solo.

Now all he wondered was what shit could have possibly hit the fan that would cause him to be called in. He was growing slightly impatient as he always did when he was being handed an assignment, he could feel the itch to go back under the radar, to fly high with the bad guys. To play his role and reap the benefits: riding in limousines, private jets, eating at the finest of restaurants and drinking only the most upscale alcohol. Only the best was awarded to him at the price of civilians' lives, and he got paid to do this, it was a dream job, it was a pity nobody else realized that, if only they could separate themselves and who they are playing. Spying may not be the most exciting of careers but it certainly paid well.

"Mr. Kort." Roper turned around and clasped his hands together.

"Director." He responded tilting his head forward.

"Are you prepared to come back to work or are you going to continue to hide out at Special Agent Gibbs' house?" Roper asked raising an eyebrow.

He nearly smirked, of course the director would have him followed, it was procedure when a CIA agent was suspended, but he had thought for a split second that Roper would cut him some slack in that area, apparently he had not. He felt his ire rise but remained calm, it would not due to lose his cool when he was just about to be accepted back. "I am prepared."

"Good. It's about time." Roper nodded to himself taking out a file.

"What do we have?" He asked calmly.

"Well, it's not your specialty, but it must be done. And they have requested my best undercover operative. It's a simple drop. Get in. Place it. Get out."

"What am I placing?" He watched as Roper pulled out a chip the size of a large memory card, he looked at it for a second before asking, "What does it do?"

"It basically sucks the information out of any computer it is attached to, duplicates it, saves it on its hard drive and replaces the info back on the original computer but with virus's." Roper explained holding it reverently.

"Genius." He remarked, truly impressed at the ingenuity of such a device, he'd have to visit the inventor sometime in the near future and give his regards and perhaps a job offer or two.

"And we are placing it in North Korean Intelligence." Roper continued, looking at him seriously.

"Of course we are. Are we ever going to get over this little grudge we have against North Korea?" He asked lightly, slightly amused by Roper's constant hatred of all North Koreans.

"When they become a democracy of course."

He nearly laughed, but the thought of tangling with enemy intelligence sobered him completely, especially North Korean intelligence, they were tougher than Mossad. He had no wish to tangle with them, and would need to sneak in rather than take the more direct approach. "I sense there is a catch?"

"Yes, unfortunately so. There is a mole in our Agency and word has leaked to the Koreans to be expecting us; you specifically." Roper said looking down at the paper.

"Have you found the leak?"

"Not yet." Roper answered gravely, giving him a piercing stare.

"I suppose we're doing the old let-them-think-I-am-dead trick at least?" He snapped irritated that Roper couldn't seem to do anything right, he was getting older in years and it was only a matter of time before he was declared unfit and would be forced to retire. All he had to do was outlast the old man and hope for a competent, less biased leader in the future. He nearly snorted at the idea, the directors past, and present always saw things in black and white, while they sent their agents out to live in a world of grey and god help you if you brought any of that grayness back with you to the CIA.

"Indeed. Shot by a Korean sniper." Roper said smiling.

"You'd enjoy seeing me shot and killed wouldn't you Director?" He asked politely, smirking along with Roper.

"It would bring much joy to my life Trent."

"I suppose my request to tell my significant other will be denied?"

"If you are referring to Special Agent Gibbs, than yes. No one is to know."

He twisted his lips and prayed for forgiveness as he nodded his acceptance. "Alright. I'll book me a flight."

Roper dismissed him. He made his way through the building wondering when the sniper would make his move; he felt a tingle of nervousness as his gut screamed with distrust. It defied his basic, primitive instincts to let himself get shot. He had been shot before, many times before, and each time it seemed twice as painful as the time before that, he was already wincing and preparing for the shot, he tried relaxing to make it look more real but try as he might he could already feel the pain. He stopped just in front of the doors and took a breath, he thought of Gibbs and felt a pang of guilt, pulling up a memory of making love to Jethro he stepped outside the doors and began walking down the steps. He was too engrossed in reliving his ecstasy to notice the black blob in the distance aiming his gun at his chest.

Until it was too late that is. He felt the burning impact of the bullet, could feel his body jar with the force throwing him backward onto the concrete steps. He could hear people screaming, as blood seemed to be spouting out of him, a dull ache in his chest soon intensified to a sharp stabbing as someone put pressure on the bleeding area. It took all his willpower to lift his head and whisper to the man leaning over him, "NCIS….Agent…Gibbs….tell him….I'm sorry….for this….." He laid his head back down and welcomed the darkness that swirled before his eyes.

**THAT NIGHT WITH GIBBS.**

He frowned. He had been waiting for nearly forty minutes now for Trent to show up; they had decided that after work they would both go out to dinner, celebrating the lifting of Trent's temporary suspension. He had reserved a seat for two at seven pm and it was now 7:43 pm. A needle of worry pricked him, Trent was never this late, actually the man was punctual, not showing up early or late. Just right on time. But not tonight, he had tried calling him but his phone was busy, he had shrugged it off as Trent having to work late, but why wouldn't he call him? Unless he was mad at him for something, but Gibbs couldn't think of a single thing he had done wrong. His frowned deepened as he examined the thought that this may be Trent's way of saying it's over, the man had gotten his job back, had a few good fucks and is now out the door. He felt his heart twist, Kort couldn't do that to him, he had seen the real man, at least he thought he did. But with Trent you never could be sure who he was showing you.

It was now eight o'clock and he still hadn't shown, an hour was long enough to wait for someone who wasn't going to show, getting up he left a tip and walked out. He stalked to his car, skimming the crowds and the parked cars for any sign of Trent, he saw none. He slammed his car door shut and revved the engine up, anger pulsing through him, he drove faster than he normally did, not particularly caring about the speed limit. He had never been stood up before, ever, not even with three ex-wives a whole slue of ex-girlfriends, never once had anyone stood him up. After everything he had done for Kort, after he swooped in and gave everything he had to the man, he had stood him up. He had given Kort more than he had given anyone in his entire life, his body, his mind, his heart and his soul. He had spent hours talking to Kort, comforting him, anything for him. And it had probably all been just a lie, maybe to get a bug in the house, or in NCIS. He wouldn't put it past the man to use him in one of his stings. He slammed a hand down on the steering wheel.

"God damn it Trent Fucking Kort!" He screamed to himself, he was pissed at Kort and at himself for falling for the CIA weasel, it was a stupid, probie move. He kept cursing until he ran out of breath, by the time he reached his house it felt like he had ran twenty miles, he slammed his car door shut, and his front door, he kicked off his shoes viciously and whipped his keys against the wall. He pulled out a whole new bottle of bourbon and uncorked it, sitting down at the kitchen table he began gulping the harsh liquid down as if it was water and he was dehydrated. He blinked, refusing to cry and give into the bastard, he felt the overwhelming urge to beat the crap out of something but settled with stomping on one of his kitchen chairs. It took nearly twenty minutes to realize that his answering machine was beeping, he frowned. Nobody used his home number anymore, not for anything important at least, he couldn't even remember his home phone number it had been so long. He pressed the button angrily, determined to listen to whatever voicemail had been left on the old machine.

"Special Agent Gibbs? This is Agent Michael Portz, from the CIA, I was with Mr. Kort when he was shot and killed. He gave me his last words, he wanted me to tell you that he's sorry."

Gibbs felt the blood leave his body, his limbs turning to stone, as his gut bottomed out, his mind strangely blank, the man's voice echoed in his head bouncing, "Was shot and killed." off the thick walls of his skull. His heart seemed to have stopped, he could feel it start to ache, the pain of it breaking was immense, it was like his whole world was crashing down on top of him, threatening to swallow him up, drown him and then shatter him to pieces under the immense weight of loss. He teetered on his axis, unable to grasp the fact of Trent, his lover, being dead--even though they had this conversation before about their line of work--his heart painfully started again. He felt every inch of shattered glass inside of him, it was like it was pulsing through his veins. He saw the kitchen rush past him as he fell to the floor, the numbness in his body blotting out everything but the pain, he wanted to scream as loud as he could to get the man's voice out of his head, he wanted to run so fast he found himself in the past, tying Kort to the bed, asking him not to go in that morning. But he couldn't.

Trent was dead. His love was dead. The one man he had left, the only person he truly loved was dead, again. His vision blurred as tears fell, he brought his pistol out, it would be so easy to pull the trigger, to let DiNozzo find him with his brains across the kitchen and his gun in his hand. Memories of Trent and him together swirled before his eyes, he could still feel the man inside of him, could feel his touch, hear his voice and his laugh. He longed to hold Trent in his arms again, his nostrils filling with his special scent, as he comforted him. He would do anything to have his man back, he'd give everything he had, even lay down his own life to bring him back to the land of the living. He knew he should make some calls, make sure it wasn't a prank call or for some political bullshit, but he knew in his gut Kort was dead. Why else wouldn't the man show up for dinner?

He looked down at his gun, knowing this wasn't the way to go but he couldn't go through this again, not after Shannon and Kelly, not after the three ex-wives. He couldn't and wouldn't experience the loss of another lover. DiNozzo was fit to lead the team, he would protect them and take care of them. His friends would understand, even if they didn't what was it to him anyways? He would be dead, he'd never experience their grief. He raised his gun and put it in his mouth, he breathed deeply, his chest heaving as tears still slipped out from under his closed eyelids. He didn't want Trent to be alone in the afterlife, wherever he was. His mind screamed at him to go after the killer but he couldn't wait that long, he couldn't go through the pain any longer. There was nothing left for him to live for, his finger tightened around the trigger, his mind spinning as his whole body shook. A little voice inside his head knew Kort wouldn't want him to do this, he knew Trent had held off on blowing himself away for Gibbs, but that was different, or at least that's what he told himself.

He knew Trent would be disappointed if he just gave up, if he laid down and died and left his killers out to roam free. Not to mention it was the coward's way out. Before he knew what he was doing he had his phone out and dialing a number from memory. "Duck."

"Jethro, my dear man, you don't sound so good. Did you finally catch the flu?" the old man said jovially over the phone.

"No Duck, not the flu. Can you come over here, spend the night with an old friend?" He asked swallowing in disgust at his own weakness.

"Well you certainly picked the night to want to catch up, my Mother's nurse quit I'm afraid I don't have a replacement. Is it something important Jethro?"

"I don't know anymore Duck. You tell me. I'm sitting here with my gun in my hands, going back and forth with myself, trying to pull the trigger." He said, tears flowing more rapidly down his face.

"Leroy don't you dare do anything stupid. I am coming right now. Mother will just have to do with young Ziva." With that Ducky clicked off the line. He sat by the counter running a finger over his SIG. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried focusing on the blackness instead of Kort's face, but the more he tried the more vivid the picture of a smiling Kort became, causing his insides to shred again. He cried out in agony, gripping his weapon he hugged it to him, trying to hold on long enough for Ducky to pull up. He couldn't remember how he had survived Shannon, how the memories of his first wife and daughter didn't overwhelm him and drown him. At least this time he didn't question how someone could take someone like Kort out of this world, he knew perfectly well how that could happen, he had wanted to shoot the man himself at one point, but then he grew fond of him, grew to love him, he could sooner shoot Tony then he could Kort. His pain was real, it was agonizing and grueling, it was physical as well as emotional. He heard the door open, but didn't bother moving from his position, leaning against the island his knees raised, the gun hugged to his abdomen.

Ducky stood over him, face shocked for a second before masking it, as he stared up at him crying still. The older man bent down, and sat next to him, taking the gun from his grip, before throwing his arm around him. He didn't ask what happened, he simply held him as he grieved and learned that his life would never be the same.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N--in case you all forgot I DO NOT OWN NCIS. Damn. But for real though. I had a dream I became the director of the CIA and people were trying to kill me yesterday--weird thing is though was that I was Jenny Shepard!**

It was raining, and not just drizzling, not just a few sprinkles but really raining, as if he had stepped into a freezing cold shower. That was another thing, not only was he wet but he was also freezing. The cold cut to the very center of him, made his bones ache, his muscles to cramp and his body to be stiffer than it had ever been before. It was noon of the third day, he had been camping out in the middle of the North Korean forest, inching towards the intelligence building he knew laid just feet out of the forest. He had checked the place out on the second day, it was fenced in with a twelve-foot high electrical fence, guards were posted at every entrance and there was a tower in each corner of the fence with a watchman carrying a machine gun posted in it. He knew he had to find the mother computer that powered all the other computers and insert the chip in it, but finding it in an unknown, high security building that was overflowing with trained assassins was not going to be easy; and he loved it. He loved the impossibility of it, the danger it brought, the adrenaline rush, the life threatening situations he lived in. It was his drug and he needed it, after weeks of being a mere civilian he needed to get shot at, to get captured and tortured, to feel the anxiety as his task was in process, to feel the elation when he finally got out of enemy territory with the information. He thrived on it; it's why he joined the CIA in the first place. It made him feel alive.

He was back and he was giddy with joy, only thoughts of Gibbs brought him down, he knew the man was going to be seriously ticked off that he lied to him, but he really had no choice in the matter. He knew he should feel guilty for putting Gibbs through that but no matter how much he had tried to feel guilt he could feel none and it bothered him, because he loved Gibbs and he knew he had hurt him greatly, knew that at that very second Gibbs was grieving for him and he was over having a little vacation celebrating his work. He could feel the slight twinge of shame burn inside of him but nothing more, it was just like every other mission; he emptied himself before it, burning all emotions, locking his thoughts down, shutting everything off except what was needed to complete the mission. The mission was more important than anything else was, more important than his life, than anyone's life, than the Agency, it was even more important than Gibbs. Rule number one nothing is more important than the mission. And rule number two, if you aren't ready to give everything, and that means absolutely everything, for a mission do not take it. Those were his top two rules that he lived by every single day of his life, and he wasn't going to stop now, not just because he was in a relationship. Gibbs would just have to deal with his work ethic, it's not like he didn't have his own ridiculous hours himself.

He sighed, there was no justification for what he did and yet here he was making excuses. Shaking his head he reprimanded himself silently, he needed to think of the mission right now not Gibbs, if he thought about Gibbs he would never go home. There was a good chance he would never make it back to American soil anyways but thinking about Gibbs would make it for certain. He shivered into himself and swallowed down all thoughts outside of his work. He began to work his way forward, positioning himself just behind the break of trees, close enough to see their headquarters but not to be seen by them. He would have to camp out until night, then go with his plan, it was simple, not as simple as Roper had planned it to be, never was but it would have to do. He vaguely wondered how long his boss had been out of the field, get in, place it, get out, was now stake out, get captured, turn over said device after a few bits of torture, use your observation skills to bust out, find gadget, place it, then get out. Not so simple anymore. He couldn't think of any other way of going in other than the direct approach, there was no way he wouldn't be seen, and it's not like he could just pretend to be one of them either. That's not to say he wouldn't try for the sneaky approach at first but when that all goes to hell his plan would really be set in motion. He leaned back against the tree breathing deeply, he conserved his heat by drawing his knees to himself and wrapping his arms around them. He prepared himself physically and mentally for the attack that would change his life forever. All he had to do was wait for nightfall.

**Back in Good Ole D.C.**

They gathered around his casket, only feet from the open grave that waited patiently for the body that was to be fed to it. Everybody around him wore solemn or blank faces, some were in shock and denial and others were forcing themselves to look on soberly. He didn't force himself to look the part for a funeral, he let his feelings shine through whether they were appropriate or not, many stared disapprovingly at him for the look of contentment that was plastered all over his being. But nobody called him on it, because if they were completely honest with themselves they'd realize that they felt the same exact way, relieved that the man had died before betraying his country. He wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Gibbs, the man had gone off grid for days on end tracking down Kort's killer, he had no idea if Gibbs had found him or not, but Gibbs had called him and asked him to make an appearance at Kort's funeral for him, that he was too busy torturing the man that killed his love.

So here he was not bothering to pretend that he was sad to see Kort go, worrying about his boss that was nearly off his hinges with grief, standing next to the rest of Team Gibbs as Kort was buried, He didn't blink as the dirt was poured over him, didn't flinch when the shots rang out twenty-one times, didn't move when everybody else did. Instead he walked up to the gravestone and faced the cold, smooth surface that read: Trent Kort. It was empty and void of anything other than his name. He smirked and bent down, he whispered, "Karma's a bitch ain't she Trent?" Before walking away and never looking back.

What Tony didn't see under Kort's name was the one letter epitaph.

Unforgiven.

**With Gibbs.**

He could feel the anger in his veins, pulsing fire that turned to ice when it reached his head. A headache was forming right behind his right eye, no matter what he did it felt as if his eye was going to explode at any given second. It was nearly three days since Trent was murdered, sixty-seven hours since he last spoke to him, sixty-eight hours since he last held him. Why didn't he stay home that day? Why hadn't he listened to his gut?! He slammed the bottle of bourbon down shattering it against the counter, he sat, knees in the air, right where he collapsed when he first found out Kort had been murdered. He hadn't moved, except to kill Kort's murderer. He had found him after threatening local LEO's and a CIA agent or two into giving him a description. The man was a Korean sniper that had been paid to take Trent out. Gibbs decapitated the man ruthlessly with his jigsaw. Each thrust of the blade fueled by anger, the blood had spurted up into his face and all he could see was Trent walking and then suddenly his blood flying from him as he fell to the ground dead.

He kept at it, ignoring the cramps in his arms, ignoring the sweat that mixed with the blood on his face. This man had killed Trent, had took his life, he deserved to die. Trent's face swam in front of his eyes, smiling, laughing, crying, flirting, he had looked down at the man whose head was half off and saw Kort, he nearly jumped and screamed like a girl before rubbing his eyes. His mind was playing tricks on him, it had been days since he had slept but how could he possibly even think of sleeping in the bed he and Trent had shared when his other half was gone? He couldn't bring himself to do it. Tears began to blur his vision, but he refused to let them fall, lest they be mistaken for tears of remorse for killing this man. They dried instantly when the head dropped onto his feet. He kicked it across the basement and stumbled blindly up to his spot. Sitting right where he was now, the blood still on his hands and face, drinking bourbon straight from the bottle.

**NIGHTFALL.**

It was time. He felt his blood race, his eyes lit up, his heart pounded. He could feel the adrenaline take hold, it made him jittery and antsy but years of practice and training kept him still and silent. He was dressed in black and navy, he kept low to the ground and moved as slowly as possible, the first obstacle was the fence, he had to get over it without being seen or heard. Or shocked. He looked around and smirked, hoping that the guards in the towers wouldn't notice anything, he moved back towards the jungle and started climbing the tree nearest the fence, planning to vault over the fence from high up in the tree. He smiled, glad he wasn't afraid of heights, he watched the towers, trying to time it just right so the spotlights wouldn't wash over him as he jumped; he needed to be unseen for as long as possible. Readying himself, he bounced a couple times before using every muscles he had in his body to jump the eight feet, curling into himself he prepared for the landing. The impact left him breathless, he heard his own back cracking gently, he almost groaned as he tried catching his breath but instead just smiled. He flipped over to his stomach and looked around, the guards had shifted and were looking around. He stayed as still as possible, holding his breath he smirked in triumph as they returned to their original positions.

He quietly crawled to the nearest wall, attracting the guard's attention but before he could say anything Trent grabbed his shoulder and squeezed the pressure point, taking out his gun with a silencer on it he put a bullet through the man's temple. Without hesitation he put a bullet through his buddies head as well--clearing the entrance of pesky North Korean Operatives. He stepped before the doors, sighing he grabbed the nearest dead guy's hand and placed it on the panel, a laser shot out and minutes later the door slid open. Very noisily. He stepped inside as quickly as possible but not quick enough to dodge the spotlights, he nearly cursed as sirens went off, he resisted the urge to dive into the nearest room. It would do no good to corner himself; instead he picked up the pace and shot anyone who came out, his body count was at fifteen before he hit the operatives he knew would be the problem. It would have been much easier if he had known where the fuck he was going but much to his dismay he was like a rat in a maze. He cleared five hallways before feeling the need to turn around, only to have a butt of a gun smashed into his skull without mercy when he did so. He saw black dots in his vision, his head pounding in pain, he swung out on instinct, firing a few rounds but by that time it was too late he was surrounded and he was having a hard time not passing out. Damn it all to hell he nearly muttered out loud. Sure there was the plan, but he hated getting captured, he just prayed that they wouldn't be as depraved as the mafia was; and with that the woman smashed the butt of the gun in to the same exact spot on his head, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

He woke nearly three hours later, he grimaced in pain as he moved his head, he could feel the blood rushing to the other side banging up against his wound. His face was sticky with blood, a gentle touch told him that it was swollen. Wincing he looked around the cell, it was the size of an interrogation room but with no lights, taking a minute for his eyes to adjust he realized the door was made of metal, but the floor of dirt, the ceiling was dirt as well but with beams running under it. He was deep underground then.

"Figures. Fucking movies, DiNozzo would have a field day with this." He muttered to himself as he stood. He still swayed a bit but it was better now, besides the escalating pain in his head. He made it to the door without any trouble he looked out the cracks, of course not seeing much, there was no light, it was completely dark. He needed to break out but he didn't know if there was any guards outside his door and he didn't want to risk telling them he was awake so they could come in and torture him. He needed to find an effective way to escape and elude detection. Looking up at the beams he wondered if he could collapse the hallway in front of his door, causing it break and fall in, and any one out there to be buried alive. He had brought along a few hand grenades. He was slightly surprised that they let him keep his weapons, they were getting cocky he realized smirking. They didn't know who he was. They thought he was a reporter or someone else. He looked around for something to climb, finding nothing he stripped his shirt and threw it over a beam, he hoisted himself up until his chest leaned against the old wood and his legs straddled it. Inching forwards, he kept low, he felt the dirt pressing on him, causing his breathing to stop sporadically. He adjusted his weight and grabbed a grenade. He had ten seconds to plant it and get down before it blew. Praying for a miracle he pulled the pin, put it right over the door and rolled off the beam and hit the floor.

It blew spectacularly, caving in not only the hallway but his cell as well and a few others. He uncovered himself, unholstering his weapon he shot the guards he saw just to be on the safe side. "So much for getting out of here undetected." He said sarcastically to himself. This was not going down the way he thought it would. He could hear voices rushing down the hallway, and he knew they knew who he was then, there was a sense of urgency in their voices that hadn't been there before. He shot one of them, staying in the shadows he began to run, firing off shots at the other one before she could call in reinforcements. He almost shouted in victory when he got her right between the eyes. He had to get out of there before the cavalry came, swinging back up onto the beams he made his way across in the shadows still, as quietly as he could, aware of the agents swarming below him trying to find the escaped prisoner, it was only a matter of minutes before they thought to look up. He needed those minutes to get to the stairwell, to his relief he made it before their eyes reached his end and bolted up the concrete steps noiselessly. He was surprised to find the corridors empty the CIA always had people in the hallways, constantly checking people out. Obviously no one had tried breaking in here for quite awhile, security was lax.

He gave up on evading the cameras instead he found the computer room after ten minutes of searching, stepping in he gazed at the shelves of computers and plasma's and keyboards and wires, it was like something out of a bad sci-fi movie. He walked briskly over to the Mother-computer and with his knife unscrewed the back of it, taking out the chip he placed it in the slot. He sighed, Roper had said it took five minutes for it to suck out all the information and duplicate it, he just hoped he had that kind of time. He raised his gun to the door and the other to the vents and prepared himself for an all out battle. He wasn't surprised when four agents came from the door and the vent, he felt a bullet clip his shoulder and another one his leg before he took out all of them, gasping he leaned up against the wall, covering the wounds with his hand he made a tourniquet for his leg, he'd just have to survive with the bullet in his shoulder. He felt the searing pain lance up his leg and into his shoulder, straight up to his head which was still pounding, the only good news was that the damn chip was done, with that he replaced everything and headed for the nearest exits, placing hand grenade's in every hallway. He was going to be remembered for blowing the North Korean Intelligence Agency sky high. Explosions followed him, he barely escaped them with his injuries, but somehow he managed to limp his way out and get to the fence. Cursing he didn't know how he was going to get over.

Biting the bullet he grabbed on and climbed, it was the barbed wire at top that was electrified, he just hoped the voltage wasn't deadly, he doubted it, the Koreans would want hostages, if not for bargaining for information, they'd enjoy torturing them. He neared the top, his leg was burning, threatening to engulf him in flames and his shoulder felt like someone was taking a saw to it, not to mention the blinding migraine he had, he took a breath in about to add getting fried to the list of pains; he wished things worked out like in the movies where the helicopter flew in and whisked the handsome hero off to safety. He latched onto the barbs feeling them pierce his hands he gritted his teeth as the electric shock almost made him fall, but he vaulted off the fence and made it to the opposite side. He felt himself twitching and convulsing, his body cramped, everything burned, like white-hot knives were being stabbed into his body every where's. Jerking, he crawled to the trees, tears threatening to spill, he gritted his teeth and dug deep as the pain became immense. He needed to make it to Russian soil and he'd be ok. He cursed as he went through mud, and water and every other element to get out of there. He prayed his wounds wouldn't get infected.

It took him five and a half hours to finally reach Russian land and when he did he passed out cold in a ditch on the side of the road. Waking up the next day he dragged himself to an airport and hid his wounds. It was only when he was back on American soil did he let himself completely collapse from sheer exhaustion and pain, he heard someone calling for an ambulance before succumbing to the darkness once again.

**A/n--Don't worry he's fine. : ). **


	10. Chapter 10

His first rational thought after being released from the hospital, and taking a cab to Gibbs' home was that the lights were off in Gibbs' basement. Which was never a good sign, for anybody. He knew Gibbs was going to be pissed at him for letting him believe he was dead, but the longer he put it off for the angrier Gibbs would get. He walked to the door, pain jolting him every time he took a step; it wasn't agonizing or breath-taking pain, just jolting, numbing pain. His leg ached in a constant throb, the pain causing a pulse of its own, the doctors had said the bullet had nicked the bone, but it wasn't bad enough for surgery. Which was good, they had just removed the bullet, stitched him up and gave him some painkillers. His arm was a different matter. The bullet had completely shattered his shoulder bone and lodged in his flesh, he had been in surgery for hours before they even got to the bullet and could repair the damage. He'd been in a sling ever since. The doctors had just released him today, two and a half weeks after making it back to America, making it three weeks since he had last seen Gibbs. Everyday he had thought of Jethro, he tried hard not to think about him, to not imagine him sitting next to him talking to him, holding him and smiling. He wanted to see him so bad, he knew he had scared some of the nurses when he started talking to his imaginary Jethro, but he just smiled there way and went back to telling him Korean weather.

The first thing that hit him when he opened the door was the nauseating smell of dried, rotting blood, it gagged him, he pressed against the wall, hand over his face, with his good arm he unholstered his gun and held it before him as he went forward. Pictures of gore filling his vision, making his knees weak as he imagined walking in on a dead, mutilated Gibbs. He heard noise in the kitchen; he slowly pushed open the door. Gibbs was on the floor empty bottles of bourbon surrounded him, he was currently drinking a small bottle of scotch, there were bags under his eyes and blood caked on his clothing, face and hands, he hadn't changed his clothes from when he last saw him, tears stained his face, misery filled his eyes. It hit him in the gut, leaving him breathless, his heart felt like it had been stabbed, guilt filled him as he bent down in front of his lover and put his hands on the man's knees. Gibbs was muttering under his breath.

"Jethro. It's me, Trent." He said softly, squeezing his knees.

"You gotta stop visiting me. Go away. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry now go away." Gibbs said nervously.

"Hey, it's me. I'm alive. And I'm here." He soothed.

"No you're dead! You're dead and I didn't save you." Gibbs yelled angrily, throwing the scotch at his head, he ducked and sighed.

"You need a shower. And you need to sleep." He said sternly. He lifted him, arms around his back, Gibbs just laid limp against his chest. He nearly cried out in pain, his injuries screamed at him, he grabbed Gibbs with his good arm and shifted his weight to his uninjured side. He bit down on the pain, and focused on Gibbs, they were nearly up the stairs and into his room, finally making it into the bathroom, he slowly stripped Gibbs.

"I didn't know ghosts could do this." Gibbs croaked his eyes red.

"Not a ghost Jethro." He continued undressing him; he adjusted the water and turned the shower on. He helped him into the shower then went for clean pajamas. He sighed as Gibbs just stood there under the spray of the shower; he started scrubbing him down with a washcloth and a bar of soap. He nearly smirked as he felt himself get hard; he looked up at Gibbs who had his eyebrow raised.

"Didn't know ghosts were capable of that either." Jethro spoke calmly.

"I am not a ghost." He whispered, he got up and grabbed the man's face, and roughly kissed him, trying to show him how real he was without taking advantage of the man. He poured his love, sorrow and regret into it, his hand tangled in Gibbs hair as he pressed the man to the wall. He growled and continued to wash him roughly, trying not to take the man right then and there. It took nearly half an hour to get him clean and another ten to get him dressed but soon enough he was laying Gibbs down on his bed and pulling him into his chest, hugging him around his waist he took his painkillers and watched as Gibbs drifted off to sleep in his arms, he soon followed.

**Gibbs, after he wakes up.**

He couldn't remember going to bed, or getting in the shower and changed, but somehow he had. He poured himself coffee as he remembered the moment he woke up, saw Kort and realized it wasn't a ghost but the actual Kort. He wanted to shake him awake, but he was pale and in bandages and a sling. Painkillers rested on the bedside table. Trent was alive. At first he had been ecstatic, still was really, his man was alive. He could breathe again, live again. His life was worth living once more. But what had really happened that day that Kort supposedly got shot? Why did they lie to him? Why did Trent lie to him? How could he?! Anger pulsed through his veins; there was only one answer--a mission. But why did they need Kort "dead"? Nothing made sense anymore. He sat at the table his two hands on the side of his head; he looked down into the blackness of his hot coffee, letting the steam hit his face.

A creak from across the roam told him that Kort had woken up and gone to find him, he looked up at Trent with stormy eyes. Neither spoke for a long time, they just took in the sight of the other, wondering what to say. "What the HELL happened?! What is going on?! I thought you were dead!" Gibbs seethed slamming his fist down on the counter.

"Roper needed me on a mission. There was a leak; someone notified them I was on my way so they had to make it look like I was dead in order to send me over." Kort replied tonelessly, his eyes cold and vacant.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" He shouted, he could feel himself shaking, could feel the grief rising in him and the resentment boiling over.

"I wasn't allowed to." Kort replied in the same voice.

"You weren't allowed to?! You weren't allowed to?! I killed the man who supposedly shot you!!! I sat and cried for three weeks straight! I QUIT MY JOB! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! Do you have ANY idea how much grief and pain you put me through?! ANY IDEA?! You stupid, selfish, no good fucking whore!" He screamed red in the face, spit flying, he had gotten up some where's in the middle of the rant and slammed Kort to the wall, ignoring the groan of pain coming from him. He shook Kort as hard as he could, he heard Trent cry out in pain, could feel his blood run over his hand but his anger wouldn't let Kort go. He wanted Kort to feel the pain that he had put him through acting dead.

"Gibbs!" Trent gasped, blood was simply gushing from the wound now, Trent's face was pale, lines of pain around his eyes, "Hurting. Me."

"YOU DESERVE IT! YOU HURT ME!" He screamed, squeezing Kort's shoulders, till Kort buckled under him, and gave a yell of anguish. He shoved Kort away from him; he watched as Trent slammed into the wall and slid down it. Gasping for breath, his leg and arm were both shaking and jerking, blood covering his shoulder, his face pale and tight. He breathed in, eyes closed, hand over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Jethro. I wanted to tell you…..I thought of you everyday." Kort gasped out, cringing.

"That's just what you are, huh? Just a stupid whore. What? You let people fuck you then run is that it Trent? HUH?!" He yelled at him watching as Kort visibly flinched.

He looked at him, tears in his eyes as he slid down the island across from Trent, shaking himself. The sting of betrayal cutting deep inside of him, reopening his wounds. He just wanted to hold Kort, wanted to kiss him, and just be with him, but his disgust and anger wouldn't let him. He just couldn't bring himself to forgive Trent, he wanted to but he couldn't. A lump formed in his throat, forgiveness had always been a problem with him, it's why he lost his last three wives. He couldn't forgive them, he let the disgust and anger fester and run his life, it grew so strong he couldn't even be in the same room as them, and soon it ruined his marriages. He didn't want to ruin Trent and him; he wanted them to be together longer than any of his wives had been with him. But how could he forgive such a blatant betrayal, how could he forgive the pain, the hurt that not only came with Kort's death but reopened wounds from Shannon and Kelly's? It seemed impossible, like a mountain whose top was lost in the clouds. He had made mistakes before and had been forgiven, but he had never played dead before. Never had he let his loved ones believe that he was gone forever while instead he was out working. It was cruel, and to forgive Trent would show him that he would put up with that kind of bullshit, would make him look like a doormat.

He was no fucking doormat. He couldn't let Trent hurt him anymore than he had. He couldn't let Trent have that sort of power over him. He just couldn't. It was unacceptable what Trent did to him. He couldn't speak; no sound would escape no matter how hard he tried. It felt like a pillow was being held over his face. He got up and slowly walked out, leaving Trent bleeding on his floor. He couldn't look at him, couldn't be in the same room as him, it hurt too much. He wanted to punch something or someone, and Roper seemed like a pretty good candidate to have the shit beat out of him. He grabbed his car keys and left without a single word. He wondered if it would hurt if he came back to find Trent dead on his floor. He didn't know what he wanted to do right now, besides block Kort from his mind, everything was just too confusing and too emotional for him to deal with. He growled as he stormed into the NCIS building, walking instinctively down to autopsy, stalking in Ducky looked up at him in surprise.

"Jethro! It's good to have you back!" Ducky said jovially.

"Trent is alive Duck." He said shortly, not one to beat around the bush.

"Jethro…..it is not uncommon for people to think they saw a lost loved one in their grief. But that's all it was my dear friend. A hallucination." Ducky said grimly, a frown on his face as if he knew Gibbs was going to fight him.

"No Duck. I mean he's alive. His death was a hoax. CIA faked it to send him on a sting overseas, and get it past a leak they have in the agency." He said coldly, anger making his blood boil.

"Ah. The CIA has been using that method for quite a while. You'd think the enemy would have caught on by now. However I'm sure this has wrought some sort of rift between the two of you?" Ducky said leaning against one of his autopsy tables and peering at him as he leaned against the one opposite.

"I trusted him and he let me suffer. I thought he was dead Duck. I can't believe he'd do this. It just doesn't make any sense. I'm so fucking pissed OFF!" He roared angrily, seething. Ducky just stared at him waiting for him to unravel himself. "I just….I don't understand why he'd do that. Orders or not!"

"Have you talked to him?" Ducky asked lightly.

"I yelled at him. Other than that, I can't stand being in the same room as him. I don't know if I can ever trust him again." He said coldly.

"I do believe that is how your last three marriages failed Jethro." Ducky said disapprovingly.

"I know." He sighed, he put a hand through his hair, he felt defeated and tired. He just wanted to wake up and have everything normal again.

"Do you want to lose Mr. Kort as well? Because that's where this is heading. It's in your court now, not his. You either talk to him or lose him. There's no other way. You have to figure out what's more important, the man that you love or acting tough and withholding forgiveness." Ducky said wisely with curtness.

He nodded, feeling undone; he let himself back into his car to drive around a bit more. He honestly didn't know if he could trust Kort again, he knew how Kort felt about missions, they were everything to him but was he willing to risk their relationship for a mission? Could you really have a true, meaningful relationship with someone you don't trust? Sure, you could be fuck buddies but he wanted something more and after what Trent had been through, he needed something more. He needed to talk to Trent before he could forgive him, Ducky's words echoing in his head; whenever he was in a spot of trouble or needed, someone to confide in Ducky was the person he went to, the Medical Examiner called them as he saw them and he appreciated him for it. Ducky was right, there was nothing unmanly about forgiving someone; he didn't have to prove to anyone he was a tough guy. And as cruel as Trent had been to him, he was being just as cruel by withholding forgiveness. Even if he forgave Trent that didn't mean he had to keep seeing him. Forgiveness didn't come with any other conditions. And to withhold forgiveness just so he can stay angry at Kort was ridiculous and he knew how pent up anger can turn someone sour, Jenny was proof of that. However, he wasn't sure he was ready to let go of it all right then. He was confused and didn't really know what to think. His mind was spinning with it all, and he needed to speak to Kort, it would probably help sort things out.

He turned his car around to head back home, he swallowed remembering what type of condition he left Trent in, he had reopened his wounds in his anger and had shook and threw the man into a wall. Call it what you may but he had abused Kort. He slammed his hand down, now it would be a matter of being able to forgive one another, suddenly he was angry at himself as he tried to remember the last thing he had said to Trent. He froze; a feeling of ice water being dumped over his head had him clutching the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He cursed himself.

He called him a whore. A stupid, good-for-nothing, whore.

He felt his gut bottom out again, but this time in shame and self-reproach. He could shoot himself in the foot right now. After everything Trent had been through he had called him that, he cursed as he stepped on the pedal and sped to his house. He all but kicked the door down in his hurry to get to Trent, he crossed the living room in a heartbeat and walked into the kitchen, Kort was passed out on the floor, blood surrounding him. He sighed, wanting to kick himself. His heart nearly tore in two at the sight before him, what if that bullet had been in the heart? His knees felt weak again but he shook his head and gently lifted Kort against his chest, glad to feel the man against him once more. As cliché as it might be, Kort fit him perfectly, in every position, he was his. And he protected what was his. He left the blood on the floor, it didn't matter at the moment, what mattered was the man in his arms. No matter how angry he was, he had had no right to put Trent in this condition. Let alone leave him to bleed out until he lost consciousness. He gently carried him to his bed and laid him down, he unbuttoned Kort's shirt to see the injury.

He cringed at the bruise on his chest where the fake bullet must have hit, it was large and black, blue and purple and it was swelling a bit. Ignoring the bruise for a minute he took off his entire shirt and winced at the bullet wound, the stitches were still in place, but blood was seeping through them, he put a towel over the wound and applied a bit of pressure, trying to stop the flow of blood. He took the moment to run his other hand down Kort's chest gently, all the way down to the belt of his pants, he moved it back up and rested it above Kort's heart. He closed his eyes feeling Kort's heartbeat and his chest rise up and down beneath him. It was the best thin he had ever felt. He would never take the warm body beneath him for granted again, or the soul inside it. He gazed down at Trent softly, affection shining in his eyes, tears once again threatened to spill and a lump in his throat threatened to choke him. He had almost lost him. He would never be able to voice how precious Trent was to him, how close he held him to his heart, how much he meant to him, but he meant all those things and more. And to have him back was a blessing. He may not be able to trust Trent again, at least not right away, but he realized that he still loved him with all of his heart and had just forgiven him. It was enough Trent was alive; he couldn't go without him now. He bent down softly, from where he straddled Kort and kissed his lips gently, he could see the man's eyes flutter open but ignored it in favor of kissing his chin, then the bottom of hi jaw and neck, the hallow of his chest.

He ran his hands along Kort's side, feeling the muscle move beneath his fingers, his fingers lightly running over his ribs. He hovered over the dark bruise before very lightly pressing a kiss to it in many places. Moving down his chest to his stomach, he licked his way back up and sat back to look into his eyes. He was taken back at the pain that were in those hazel eyes. It choked him up to know he put it there. "I'm not your _whore _Gibbs. You can't just fuck me and then leave you know." Kort spat, anger in his brown eyes as he slid on his shirt.

"I know Trent. I am sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't and isn't true. You are not a whore Trent." He spoke gently.

"Then why did you say it?! You know how I felt when they…when I was..you know!" Kort said angrily trying to sit up, he pushed him back gently. "I was just some cheap fuck! They thought it was funny! They stripped me of everything! Of my life!"

"I know Trent. I know." He soothed, gently putting a hand on his lover's cheek. "I was angry. It's no excuse, but it will never happen again. You really hurt me with the stunt you pulled. These last few weeks have been the hardest I've ever lived through. I don't know if I can trust you again. But when I realized what I did to you, and realized that I still had you, I just knew I still loved you."

"I'm sorry Jethro, I never meant to cause you pain. I was shipped out so fast I didn't have a chance to go behind Roper's back and tell you. It would have been to dangerous to call you once I was under. I'm sorry." Trent said. "And I said it twice."

He smiled fondly down at his lover. "I'm still pissed."

"Yeah? You wanna take it out on me?" Trent said smirking.

"I wish I could but those wounds looks like they hurt." He said frowning, "What happened?"

"Shot. Can't tell you no more than that Jethro. I'm sorry." Trent said

He nodded and slipped off Kort to the side, laying an arm around his waist he pulled Trent closer to him, smiling at what he knew was his, Trent belonged to him.

"I hope the people who shot you are dead. Or I'm going to have to kill them myself." He growled protectively. Trent smiled.

"Don't worry. I snapped their necks." Kort purred seductively.

"You are mine and I protect what's mine." He said fiercely.

Kort looked at him for a minute and whispered, "When I'm better I want you to fuck me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer--I do NOT own NCIS.**

**Warning--Lovemaking. :)**

Trent belonged to him now, his and his alone; Gibbs watched him sleep still curled up against his chest, he ran his fingers softly down his lover's face, grateful that he was alive. He wanted to soak up as much as him as possible, the whole fiasco making him realize just how much he loved Kort and how real the potential for tragedy was. Their jobs were dangerous, they both knew it, in fact, they'd had the job discussion before, but this whole month the seriousness and reality of it all hit home. They could really lose one another. It stole his breath away; three weeks had been hard enough, but forever? He couldn't and wouldn't do it. He looked down at Trent's relaxed face and gave a guttural growl, the man was so beautiful, the very sight of him turned him on but to feel Kort against him, his crotch pressed against his almost made him hard. He ran his other hand up Trent's side, feeling the fine body beneath his fingers, he shivered. His head filling with the things he was going to do to this man he loved. He ran his hand along Trent's chest, and stroked his back, trying to take in every square inch. He pressed a gentle kiss to Trent's head.

"That offer still stands from earlier you know. I'm ok to go. I want to Jethro. I want to feel you inside of me. I want you." Trent groaned.

He was slightly surprised but hid it behind his smirk, which grew when he realized Trent was hard. "Didn't the doctor say to not have any…..sexual relations, until you are better?" He asked smiling.

"When have you ever listened to Doctors Jethro?" Kort growled softly.

"Since it concerns you. I'm not going to harm you for my own selfish desires or yours for that matter. I will make love to you Trent just not till you are better. I don't want it to be painful." He spoke softly, looking into Kort's gorgeous blue-brown eyes, before lowering his head and capturing Kort in a riveting, passionate, lustful kiss. His hand traveled to cup the back of Kort's head as he pulled him gently into another kiss, which stole both their breath away. He could feel Trent pressing viciously against his mouth before backing off a bit and lightly biting his lip. He could feel a drop of blood oozing from the wound, he ignored it as he kissed him again his tongue tracing Kort's mouth, his mind was blank except for the god of a man below him, oh how he wanted to thrust in to him, ravage him and make Kort his. He wanted to pound him into the wall, biting and sucking, ripping and nibbling, kissing and licking. He wanted their sweat to combine, he wanted to hear Trent groaning and screaming his name. He wanted to come harder then he ever had before, he wanted to feel himself inside Kort, wanted himself sheathed and surrounded by him. He wanted Trent in every way possible. But until he was healed he would have to settle with kissing and touching.

"Jethro…please…." Trent pleaded in a gruff whisper; Gibbs could feel Kort's nails digging into his back as Trent continued to attack his body with his teeth, and tongue. He didn't know if it was the plea that finally got to him or the passionate ministrations Kort was putting on his body, but he was soon undressing both of them. The look of fierce, aching desire and need shining in Kort's eyes made even more blood rush to the head of his cock. He groaned as he looked down at the beautiful naked body below him. He put a hand on Kort's chest, firm and muscular and trailed down the smooth, velvety, hot-to-the-touch skin. Trent was beautiful, perfectly formed with just the right amount of muscle, so god dam sexy. It made him hard to resist when he was begging for sex. Gibbs was already cursing himself as he gently moved forward between Kort's legs; he kept Kort on his back so as not to put pressure on either of his lover's wounds.

He straddled Kort carefully, his hands traveling all over his body, chest, legs, back, face, ass, thighs. He wanted to remember every single detail about the man he loved. He watched Trent carefully for any signs of fear, finding none he kissed his way down his chest and sucked on both the man's nipples, eliciting a gasp from his lover. Smirking Gibbs moved to the other one, basking in the glory of making the man below him respond so excitedly. He slowly kissed his way down to the man's belly button and slipped his tongue inside and swirled it around. He heard Trent giggle, He withdrew his tongue and snorted. "I didn't know Trent Kort could giggle like a school girl." He said smiling.

"Oh Jethro that tickles!" Kort played along in a high-pitched girly voice. He laughed loudly at that before capturing Kort's lips in a fiery kiss, trying to suck out his tongue and tonsils. Kort moaned and shuttered beneath him, Gibbs lay on top of him, propped up by his elbows next to Kort's shoulders, his hands cupping Kort's head, staring down at him lovingly, smiling gently. For a few minutes both men just stopped and looked into each others eyes, until the ache was too much, and Kort spread his good leg in an invitation.

"You ready for this?" He asked gruffly, thoughts running back to the time he had tried to give Kort a massage, only to have him freak out and break down. He watched his man now for any signs of doubt, seeing none he smiled as Kort whispered, "I'm ready Jethro. I want you." His throat nearly closed around itself at the thought of what had happened to Trent only three months before, it flashed through his eyes. Staring down at the man he loved he wondered how anyone could do something so vile, so evil and disgusting, so hurtful to this precious man in his arms. To the man he loved. He loved Trent, really loved him, more than he thought he could ever love someone again. He felt like his heart would burst with his raw feelings for Kort, no one had ever made him feel so much all at once; he had never needed someone so much. Not like he needed Kort now; because Trent was apart of him, he was essential to Gibbs' survival. Breathing in the scent of his lover he knew he couldn't live without him and he wouldn't. If Kort ever died, truly died, he wouldn't hesitate to the pull the trigger. He didn't want to go on without this man.

And God help anyone who even thought about considering hurting Trent in anyway. He would rip them limb from limp slowly and painfully, he'd castrate them and then slowly disembowel them and rip out their heart. He would never let anyone hurt Trent again, even if he had to personally accompany Kort on his missions and act as his bodyguard. He would without a doubt take a bullet for Trent, he would take anything meant to harm the man and take it upon himself instead. His lover had been hurt enough; he would not have him hurt anymore. Kort was his and his alone. No one hurt what was his. No one took what was his. No one even dared to think about messing with what was his. And he'd make sure that everyone in the world knew Kort was his by morning. His eyes darkened in lust as he poured a generous amount of lube into his hand, he slicked his shaft up before gently inserting one slick digit into Kort's pucker. He was delighted when he felt Kort tighten around his finger; he inserted two more until Trent was stretched far enough for it not to hurt. He lined himself up with Trent's entrance, looking into Kort's eyes he growled when Kort said, "Fuck me Gibbs."

He grasped Kort's hips gently on both sides before smoothly, slowly, and gently sliding into him. Once he was fully sheathed he stopped, giving Kort time to adjust to being full and himself time to relish in the feeling of Kort surrounding him. It was pure ecstasy, his mind was shattering in the feeling of the burning hot tightness around him, he let a low moan escape from his throat, he squeezed Kort's waist tightly, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he was inside Trent, inside the man he loved, attached, becoming one. It nearly drove him to the edge when he opened his eyes and saw himself in Kort and saw the same intense look of mind-blowing euphoria reflected in his lover's eyes he nearly lost it.

"Gibbs…..move….please…." Kort moaned pushing himself down, trying to feel the friction he knew it would cause. This snapped him into action, he carefully slid halfway out and gently slid back in; he wanted to take Kort roughly, wanted to pound him into the wall, but he wouldn't. At least not this time; not only because of his injuries, but also the fact that he didn't want Kort's first time to be painful. Those men had taken Kort dry and unprepared, they had ripped Kort and tore him up inside. They had liked it rough as well and they had brought it full force onto Kort. Gibbs wouldn't do that. He'd make love to Trent sweetly and full of the passion and love he had for Trent. He continued his gentle thrusts, speeding up a bit at the ending, nearly slamming into him. He panted as he felt his muscles constrict, his whole body cramping up as he exploded inside of Trent, only fifteen minutes into lovemaking he had lost it. Trent panting and growling his name, meeting each of Gibbs' thrust with enthusiasm before tightening up and coming seconds before Gibbs had. Gibbs lay on top of Trent panting, crashing from the highest high he had ever experienced in his life. He slid off Trent and lay next to him smiling, Kort's face was turned away from him but he saw the man's chest heaving, he put his hand in the middle of Trent's chest and kissed his shoulder.

Kort's face slowly turned to his, what he saw there had him choking on air, his lungs seemed to constrict and his heart froze. Tears were coursing down Trent's face. He slowly put a shaking hand against Kort's cheek, resting it there softly. "Trent? Did I….Did you want to stop? Did I--Did I…" He couldn't go on; he couldn't bring himself to say it. He had thought Kort wanted this, he hadn't detected any signs of Kort trying to force himself to do it; he had seemed genuine. But was that just because he, Gibbs, wanted to fuck him, so he saw what he wanted to see? Had Kort cried out to him in the middle of his lovemaking and asked him to stop? Had he ignored him? Had he hurt him? Had he raped him? He felt the first tendrils of fear slithering In his chest, latching onto anything they could get a hold of, he burned with shame at the thought of hurting this man, he wanted to hit something, preferably himself as he felt the tears flow over his hand.

"No. Jethro. Thank you. I love you." with that Trent really did let it all go, all the hurt and pain he had kept bottled up inside he let loose, quietly sobbing into his, Gibbs', shoulder as he held him and soothed him, murmuring reassurances of his never ending love for Trent. He felt his heart nearly break, as Trent shook in his arms, he felt his warm, salty tears flow down his shoulder and neck. He tightened his arms, trying to protect Kort and take away his pain, how he wished it had been him. How he wished he could take Trent's pain away even if it meant putting it on himself. "Oh Trent, I love you. Shhh." He soothed, stroking the back of Kort's head as he nuzzled his face against his and kissed him on the side of the head.

"I'm sorry." Trent said between irrepressible sobs. "It's not you, it's just….I don't know. It was amazing and everything….everything it should have been. Just…they didn't…I'm just…"

"You're just coming to terms with what they did. I know Trent, I know. It's alright, sweet cheeks." Gibbs said warmly.

"Sweet cheeks?" Kort hiccupped skeptically.

"Honey buns?" He questioned. He felt Kort smiling despite the tears.

"Hmm….cupcake." Kort teased as he poked his belly.

"Babykins." Gibbs said in a mock-sweet tone.

"Muffin-to--OW!" Kort exclaimed as he pinched his ass, and then smiled, gently nipping his ear affectionately. Kort laid his head on his chest, his ear right over his heart, listening to the extraordinary sound of life beneath him. With Gibbs' steady heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest rocking him to sleep he was soon out, wrapped safely and securely in his lover's gentle, loving and protective embrace. Trent had never felt so loved in all his life, or more wanted; it choked him up a great deal to know he had a safe haven. To feel that implicit trust and security, knowing Gibbs would always have his six and would never betray him. It wasn't hard falling asleep with the man you loved. Gibbs wrapped on arm around his lover's back and shoulders and the other one rested on Kort's cheek, his fingers cradling the back of Trent's head. Gazing down at the handsome man next to him he soon nodded off as well.

………………………**..**

The next morning he woke up knowing exactly where his first stop was going to be; he looked down at Trent who was in the same position he fell asleep--secure in his arms. Just where Gibbs liked him. He listened to Trent sleeping; the man didn't snore to his surprise but instead breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. He loved mornings like this when he could just wake up and feel Kort's chest rising against him and think about how lucky he was to have Trent. Placing a kiss softly to Trent's forehead he carefully made his way across the room and downstairs after dressing; he would have rather just lay in bed all day with Trent but he had people to talk to and Directors to see. He grabbed a cup of coffee before heading out, leaving a note for Trent next to the bedside table with painkillers and a glass of water. As he left the bedroom he turned around and watched Trent curl into himself, nearly into the fetal position, his heart constricted as his heartstrings were pulled. Whispering "I love you." one last time, he left.

An hour later found him stalking down the CIA's hallway towards Director Roper's office, fury lined his face as he remembered who was responsible for all his heartache and Trent's injuries, actually Roper was to blame for everything he and Kort went through since they were together. He held Roper responsible for not only his grief, but also for Kort's bullets wounds and his rape and now that he didn't have to play nice with Roper for his job he was going to give him a piece of his mind. He kicked open the door angrily and stormed in, shooting a death glare at Roper, one of his employees scurried out as Gibbs drew himself up to his full height, a menacing scowl on his face. Normally people cowered when he entered a room like that, anyone with a good sense of self-preservation ran for the hills, as far away as they could get. However Roper just looked up at him and said, "That will be seventy dollars for repairs Agent Gibbs."

He didn't respond, instead he stood there taking in the man who thought he had the right to harm his lover. Roper had white hair and wore a military uniform, Gibbs glared at him, taking in his appearance wondering what gave this man the right to hurt, and kill others. This man was responsible for Trent's tears, and fears. For the nights he spent staring at the ceiling lifelessly, catatonically. For the puking and the scalding, burning hot showers and the recklessness that made Trent endanger his life needlessly. Roper was the one that caused Trent to spend his nights shaking, and trying to repress all emotions. It was his fault Trent hated himself and found himself not worthy of anything. Roper was just as responsible as the men that actually carried out the rape; the Director might as well have tied Kort down and took him himself. Gibbs saw red as he stepped closer to the man, wanting nothing more than to put his head through the wall and break him in half and rip his innards out. He felt his blood boil, knowing Trent would have to report back to this man for years to come, knowing there was always a chance of Trent being tortured, raped and killed, all because of Roper. As long as this man was Director Trent wouldn't be safe. He would not allow anyone to threaten Trent's safety around him.

"Roper." He growled angrily.

"Gibbs." Roper said coldly.

"I hear you got a mole problem." He hissed.

"That's classified." Roper said shrugging.

"You have a mole that's targeting one of your agents specifically." He continued on ignoring the twitching of his right hand just itching to get around Roper's throat.

"And how do you know that?" Roper said coolly.

"Both times information has been compromised it involves Trent. He always gets hurt." He replied.

"Are you trying to tell me someone within my Agency is trying to kill Mr. Kort?" Roper asked lightly.

"Obviously. So what are you going to do about it?"

"We're doing everything we can to find the mole." Roper replied tilting his head forward.

"I suggest pulling Trent from missions until this leak is found."

"Are you telling me what to do Agent Gibbs?" Roper asked his eyes narrowing.

"If you send him on a mission you endanger his life and the Agencies credibility and information."

"I didn't know you cared about the Agency."

"I don't. I do care about Trent. I won't have him threatened or put needlessly in danger." Gibbs said looking pointedly into Roper's icy blue eyes.

"Kort can draw out the mole."

"And if he gets killed in the crossfire?! Are you willing to risk your best agent's life to find a mole?" Gibbs said glaring at the man and sitting up straighter.

"I appreciate your concern Gibbs and I'm sure Mr. Kort does as well, however there _is_ a bigger picture here. If the mole isn't found information can leak into the wrong hands, terrorists, arms dealers, foreign intelligence agencies. I'm sure you can imagine what would happen then. This mole not only jeopardizes Mr. Kort's life but also the well-being of the Agency and of this country. I have no qualms about sacrificing one person for the good of America. The good of the many outweighs the good of the one." Roper said callously.

"You have not listened to a word I have said." Gibbs growled irritation flaring up. "Someone is after Trent specifically. They're not giving away information about the agency, or anything else, they're giving Trent away. They're trying to kill Kort, not spill the Agencies secrets!"

"If they were trying to just kill Kort, you'd think they'd take a more direct approach." Roper said smoothly.

"Not if they want it to look like an accident, a mission gone wrong. Your Agents all know how to frame-up murder to look like something else." Gibbs said.

"If the mole is giving information away on Kort, telling the bad guys that he's CIA we lose that connection, it all goes to hell. We lose everything we have. The mole is the bigger problem here not Trent's safety, the man can take care of himself Gibbs, he's not a child." Roper said.

"Exactly. If they're targeting Kort than if you pull him from missions they won't interfere in them anymore. The only way to keep your Ops intact would be to pull Trent."

Roper seemed to think this over. "And if it's not just Trent?"

"Then we'll know."

"I still think Trent could lure them out, put him on a fake mission." Roper said.

"And when the mole tries to make contact with the bad guys?" Gibbs spoke calmly.

"I was thinking we could have NSA work with us as the bad guys, they don't come up in our data bank, not for facial or fingerprint recognition. The whole thing would be a sting." Roper said.

"And Trent would be in no danger." He followed Roper's thoughts.

"Exactly."

"But for this to work wouldn't you need a suspect first?"

"We got it narrowed down to one department, there's only a few of them, but they have connections all the way up to the president. We have the whole agency wire tapped, we record every out going and in coming call, all mail is read before leaving, everybody is scanned and an FBI agent follows each one of my Agents home. After this is over they'll have to move." Roper muttered the last part.

"Langley is working with the FBI. That's something new." He raised his eyebrow. Everybody knew Langley hated the FBI with a passion and would rather blow the FBI building up then ask them for help.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Who do you owe?" He spoke knowingly.

"Fornell." Roper replied with a hint of annoyance.

Cracking a smile he said, "Oh man, he's probably loving this."

"Indeed. I'll contact the NSA see what they can do. I'll call Kort later." Roper said, pulling out more paperwork.

"Good." He rose from his seat but instead of heading towards the door he went towards Roper, grabbing the man by the collar of his suit he pulled him up and over, nearly nose to nose he whispered, "If you ever knowingly put Trent in danger like that again I'll be back. And neither of us will be happy about it. And god help you if anything ever happens to Kort because of you. I will make you pay. You got that?" He spat angrily, shaking him in time with his words.

"I suppose this would be a bad time to ask if there is anything going on between you and Mr. Kort?" Roper said with an eyebrow raised, ignoring the fact that Gibbs was threatening him and nearly choking him.

He shoved Roper back in his seat, watching as the man adjusted himself. "And if there is?"

"Well that could cause a problem. It could hurt relations between the CIA and NCIS. Not to mention the liability that Kort may say too much to you. Or that it may be suspicious that Kort is dating a federal officer when he's pretending to be someone else." Roper said folding his hands together on top of his desk.

"Get to the point Roper." Gibbs said flatly.

"While I can't tell my people who to date, I can strongly advise against it." the Director said.

He laughed, "You give Kort your suggestions. I'm not worried."

"I'm sure. But there are many things that can hinder or even break up a relationship. Wouldn't you agree Agent Gibbs?"

"I would. But there are also numerous things that could cripple the agency as well."

"Indeed." Roper looked him over appraisingly before smirking, "I trust you know the way out?"

"I memorized it." He answered.

"Good."

With that he left, knowing he had to talk to his own Director about getting his job back and that was going to be a headache in itself.

**WITH TRENTYPOO.**

Turning over he expected to knock into Gibbs clumsily, waking both of them up instantly, only to find cold bed sheets and a crumpled blanket. He sat up and looked around the room, grimacing in pain as his shoulder flared up and his leg ached he saw the pain meds and the water, he grabbed them and the note that was left by their side that said his lover had gone to see about getting his job back. He felt a twinge of guilt before he brushed it aside as he recalled the night before; it had easily been one of the best nights in his life, he would remember it for as long as he lived. He had been a little nervous when they had started; no one had touched him in a while since Deston. He had shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind and just laid back and let Gibbs have his way with him, thoroughly enjoying the fucking he was getting. Gibbs had been so good, he had thought it would hurt but his love had been gentle; for that he would never be able to thank him enough.

He got out of bed and got dressed quickly; going down the stairs he started grabbing his keys and cell, only to be stopped by the basement door when a foul odor drifted up from under the door crack. Reaching behind his back he pulled out his .9 mm before slowly opening the door and descending the stairs, flickering the lights on he stopped short in surprise, the boat was gone, instead there was a newly built work table with a vice, blood stained the top of it and dripped down it's side creating a pool around the base of it. But it was old blood, some dry and faded, some sticky and giving off a rotten smell. It looked like someone had dumped red paint all over the place, what the hell happened? He stepped over the sticky parts of the blood and traveled closer checking out the handcuffs that were around the legs of the table and the other cuff waiting to be attached to a wrist or ankle. Like someone was using this room to dissect someone.

He crinkled his nose; the smell overwhelming. Suddenly a thought occurred to him: Jethro. He raised his gun and searched the basement; he jolted up the stairs as fast he could, taking them three at a time. He opened all the cupboards and over turned any furniture you could use to hide a body. Had Gibbs been ambushed on his way out the door? Had they gagged him and tortured him while he lay peacefully sleeping upstairs? Was he alive? Who had him? He looked out the door, no signs of a struggle and Gibbs wasn't one to go down without fighting, his car was gone too, but that meant nothing, the kidnappers, or killers (He shuddered at the thoughts, leaving his insides icy) could have taken it afterwards. There were no skid marks on the driveway or any obvious signs of someone dragging a body. In fact everything was spotless except for the basement.

Whipping out his cell he speed dialed three.

"Gibbs."

"Jethro, where are you?" He asked keeping the concern and worry out of his voice.

"At NCIS headquarters. Didn't you get my note?"

"I must not have seen it. Ahhmmph." He hissed suddenly, the pain flaring up in his leg and shoulder at being jostled so. Apparently running up a flight of stairs and lifting heavy furniture was not good physical therapy for his wounds.

"Kort you ok?"

"Yeah. I fell out of bed, landed on my injuries, they're sore but the stitches are fine. No blood." He answered gasping as he lowered himself carefully onto the couch.

"How about dinner at the Italian place down on main tonight around six?"

"Sounds good to me." He said smiling slightly. He sighed almost inaudibly remembering the insane fear and panic that had had such a firm grip on him only minutes before. "I…..I…love you."

"Yeah. I know." Gibbs spoke softly, hearing the click he hung up his own cell and set about cleaning the basement. Saving his questions for dinner**.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note--I always wondered how Trent became a CIA Agent, so I made up my own story. And this whole chapter is dedicated to Kort's past. **

Gibbs had chosen an upscale, high-end Italian restaurant to take him out to, it was done in a warm red and a rich deep brown with golden highlights. It was warm and inviting and it smelled delicious. He smiled, he couldn't remember the last time he had been out on a date with anyone and for it to be just the two of them enjoying a great meal with each other was something to look forward to after a day of complete and utter boredom. He smirked as he spotted his silver-haired knight sitting at a table near the window; soon enough they had both ordered and were talking nonsense about past relationships. It was the first Gibbs had ever opened up about the past, save the time he had told him about Shannon and Kelly--but that he already knew from his file and research. He wanted to know the past that wasn't on paper, that nobody but Gibbs knew.

He listened intently as Gibbs told him about his previous marriages, and work, taking in everything that made Gibbs, Gibbs.

"So tell me Trent, you are from London and yet ended up working for the CIA?" Gibbs asked softly, looking him in the eye.

"Yes. Well, I'm a natural born manipulator seemed like the thing to do with my life. Use my powers of "evil" for good." He said smoothly, glancing down at his plate.

"I usually don't like natural born manipulators." Gibbs spoke steely.

He smiled and looked back up, "For all you know the Trent Kort you like could be a lie. Roper could have ordered me to make you fall in love with me." Gibbs looked at him through narrowed eyes. He laughed at Gibbs' sudden suspicion.

"Something I should know Trent?" Gibbs said raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe. Maybe not." He smirked arrogantly. Gibbs just smiled and nodded, looking down to hide his amusement. Trent picked up his spoon and flung a pea at him.

"You are so mature Trent. You know, you and DiNozzo would be great friends." Gibbs said sardonically, muttering, "Both pain in my asses."

"Yes but I'm your favorite pain in the ass." Trent teased with his usual cockiness, wagging his head like he often did when he was trying to be condescending.

"Prettiest too." Gibbs purred.

"Oh Jethro stop. You're making me blush. Shucks." He said flinging out a hand, pretending to be a school girl on her first date, voice and all. Gibbs laughed, and took a sip of his champagne. Before looking back up at Trent with eyes full of speculation, as if he was trying to figure out something. "Just say it Jethro."

"When did you know?" Gibbs said.

"That I was a natural manipulator? Well the phrase came out of my mouth when I was fifteen, but I knew I could lie and lie well when I was very little. It started with those little white lies, then getting out of trouble. Then exaggerating stories. Soon creating stories, twisting words to my advantage. I saw the effect words can have on people. Words are all you need to fight a battle. People can ignore your actions by turning a blind eye but eventually they're going to be caught off guard and hear something. You can easily use that to your advantage. Exploit it. Observation and words. It became a thrill, to see how far I could go and how long I could hold a façade, to this day some of those people still believe the stories I told, the person I pretended to be. I was fascinated by their naive stupidity really. I always thought if you are stupid enough to fall for something you deserve it to happen to you.

Then, my Mother and Father broke up and divorced. I stayed with my Mother, but I never really saw her she said she was working a couple jobs to make ends meet. I found out later, through the grapevine after some interrogating, that she was prostituting. We couldn't afford food, or the rent, or anything. It was so bad we couldn't afford toothpaste. I was confused and pissed. Prostitutes make good money, especially with the other job she had we should have been able to make ends meet, yet we weren't. So I followed her around one night, turns out she was gambling it away. I never confronted her about it, no point. She was too far gone and I had other things to worry about. She destroyed herself, I let her. It was her own fault anyways.

Then I had to find my own way of getting money. At first I just stuck with the sob-story, which got me food and a bed for one night. I jumped around and mooched for a bit, but then I began to want things, so I started lying my way through it. Making up gigs, anything, to sell people or to rope people along.

Once I told them I was a photographer, I was nineteen at the time. And this couple wanted a few good shots together. I told them they needed to give me half in advance. Half was $1,500, then I took their photos and cleared out. That gig worked a few times, got me over twenty thousand dollars. Of course I couldn't stick around much in one place or I'd get caught and I only did up to three couples in one place. Didn't want too much talk. Scamming people was easy, especially older folks. So I lived as a con-artist for a bit, picked a few things up from the trade. Started hanging out with some gangs and other con-artists. They gave me advice, taught me how to make fake ID's, change my appearance, to shoot and fight. But one day I was caught, had to flee England, I scammed a politician." Gibbs snorted.

"I traveled to different countries, Germany, Turkey, Russia, Vietnam, Spain. I traveled every where's. Picked up some of the languages, learned even more from them. Then one night I was at a bar in Poland, met a guy who was a lot like me. Con-artist who grew up on the streets. Too much like me. I lied for a living, and so I know when someone is lying to me. I smiled my way through the meeting and followed him out into the alley. We fought for a bit before he told me he was CIA and wanted my help to get information about certain…..things--It's still classified so I can't really tell you. Needless to say I asked him what was in it for me. He said business and I agreed. I reported back to him, I found I liked him, we got along. I started asking questions about his work. But then one day I was found out by the government, breaking the Anti-Espionage law. The CIA Agent, Morgan and I were caught together, it was us against twenty highly-trained Polish Intelligence and Military officers.

We pulled together though, worked as a team and thanks to great aim we won the battle. Morgan was hit in the leg, nothing serious, but he couldn't move, he told me I had to go around and make sure they were dead--shoot'em all in the head. I might have been part of gangs but I never killed anyone before, it wasn't my department, I funded the gangs, I was part of the treasury and fund raising department. We were the ones with the body guards. I killed three people that day. I watched as the light faded from their eyes. By the time I was able to bring myself to kill them all, he was gone. I turned around and there was only a pool of blood where he had been. He was gone. I heard police vehicles. I split. Fled to Russia, stayed there for a while. I kept doing my thing, helping the Mafia and shit. But I couldn't get that day out of my mind, the way the lights in their eyes dimmed, their bodies went limp, the power it gave me. It gave me a high I hadn't been on since I discovered I could manipulate and deceive. I was feeling numb, everything was grey. There were days I thought of killing myself, but instead I started killing others, Mafia would send me out on hits. Eventually that wasn't even enough, I didn't know what I was looking for, but something else, something more. Something with meaning. My friends kept dying, my options kept getting fewer. I could only run for so long, I was already wanted in seven different countries.

I decided I needed a change, I didn't know if I'd be happy but I'd make myself happy. I couldn't run forever, but I couldn't stay where I was at the time either. So I thought where better to get away from your past then the Land of Opportunity? And so over I came, settled in Virginia. But when I tried to be a better person, to be someone other than myself it didn't work. I kept reverting back to my old self and when I wasn't being me I was miserable. So I changed my outlook. I needed to find a good, job that benefited others as well as used my skills as a good liar, manipulator and killer. And then it came to me. The CIA. I searched out the agent I met in Poland, he gave me a letter of recommendation along with pulling a few strings. And here I am nearly twenty years later." Trent said softly, picking at his food, unable to meet Gibbs eyes, wondering what he thought of him right then.

"What happened to your Mother?" Gibbs spoke softly.

"Some man shot her. Apparently she borrowed money and never paid him back." Kort said shrugging.

"Lying was the only thing I was good at. I remember the days I would go without food when I was a kid. I'd do anything to distract myself from the hunger but sometimes it got so bad I'd curl up on my bed and cry because I was so hungry. One time I asked my Mother why she whored herself out and she told me that one night we didn't have supper and she was trying to play with me to keep us both distracted from the hunger pains, but I just kept crying and looking for things to eat. Then a hamster got out, apparently I bit it's head off and ate it. She was horrified, and knew she had to do something."

"Your Mother loved you." Gibbs asked quietly.

"At first but then she got too into the life and forgot me." Trent said emotionlessly.

"And your Father?"

Kort's eyes narrowed and he looked up at him sharply. "For all I care he can be dead and burning in hell. In fact I hope he is. Bastard. He had money, he could have taken me in and I would have grown up just fine. But no, instead the greedy bastard kept everything to himself, and never once came to see me or sent cards or called or nothing. He walked out and I never saw him or heard from him again. The closest I got was seeing a news article about my Father winning a commendation for Doctor of the year. My father never knew what hunger pains felt like, what being all alone felt like. I wanted things so bad, just simple things, books mostly, I couldn't even get one that was five bucks. I couldn't have anything. I wore the same clothing three times a week. There were no holidays. There was no food. Sometimes there was no shelter. I was sick, I had to suck it up. I made sure not to get hurt because there'd be no help. I made my own way, took care of myself. I killed a neighbors cat when I was eight, and cut it open and cooked it like you would a deer. That was what my childhood was. Just surviving. Just getting through the night and knowing tomorrow would be the same."

"All those days add up eventually."

"It felt like forever. But there are certainly worse things than going without." Kort replied nodding.

"You shouldn't have had to go without your parents, without love Trent." Gibbs spoke quietly.

"Well I got you now don't I?" Trent smiled disarming Gibbs and making him smile too.

"Yeah you have me forever, unfortunately." Gibbs said smirking.

"It's not so bad. At least I can get a quick fuck every now and then."

"Keep talking like that and you'll be on the couch." Gibbs said.

Leaning forward Trent kissed Gibbs softly. He could feel Gibbs smiling against his lips, pulling apart Gibbs pointed to Trent's plate of food. "Eat. You are never going to go hungry again. Especially not on my watch."

Laughing he began cutting up his steak, looking up a minute later he spoke softly, "You're the first person I've ever been completely honest with." Gibbs looked at him with his piercing blue eyes, as if he was x-raying him Not knowing what to say Gibbs just nodded and whispered a thank you.

"You and Tony would so get along." Gibbs spoke after a while.

"Are you trying to tell me if I can't get along with the kids we can't be together?" Trent replied wryly.

"More like I'm going to be very grumpy if you two can't tolerate each other."

"He started it."

"Very mature of you Trent."

"I thought we already agreed that I was immature?"

"No I said you were like DiNozzo."

"Well he's certainly immature. However I am not as bad as he is."

"Get in the car."

"Oh, Jethro, didn't know you shared my fantasy."

"Don't make me knock you out and shove you into the trunk."

"Sounds kinky."

"You have no idea."


	13. The End

**Author's Note--I know this is a disappointment for the end, but it is the end of the line for this story. I apologize, I am ashamed to end it on such a bad chapter, but here it is. I'm seriously about to cry, I'm so disappointed and mad. I can't even begin to try to explain why I'm getting so emotional.**

**Disclaimer--I do NOT own NCIS. Not even Kort……..-sniffles- **

That night they lay on the bed, he laid on top of Kort listening to the man's heart beat as he slept; they had returned from the restaurant, got in a shower together and made passionate love, leaving them slicked with sweat on their bed and exhausted. Kort had fallen asleep an hour ago, while he chose to stay awake, gently stroking Trent's chest and raking his fingers through his chest hair. He couldn't sleep, his gut was telling him something bad was going to happen--and his gut was never wrong. He kept his ears trained for any unsual noise and his eyes open, ready to strike at any time. He didn't know what made him feel so on-edge, nothing out of the ordinary occurred, and yet still he felt like something was going to happen. He let Kort sleep though, it gave him a chance to admire Trent's beauty without being caught doing so.

"You can go to sleep Jethro, it's not like anyone is going to dare attack us. It would be suicide to try to kill us while we're together. Stop staring at me and go to sleep." Kort huffed annoyed.

"It's not my fault, look at that body of yours." He whispered reverently.

"Yes well it's my body and I want _you_ to stop staring at it." Kort said cuttingly.

"Somebody is grouchy." He said trying to fight a smile but failing.

"Leroy I swear to go--" Trent began his voice full of exasperation and annoyance, only to be interrupted by Gibbs' cell phone ringing. Reaching over Trent, making the man gasp and grumble about not being able to breathe and it being too hot and late for this shit, he grabbed the phone just as Kort threw him off grumpily and turned over sharply facing away from him and threw the blankets over his head.

"Gibbs." He spoke loudly, Trent peeked his head out of the covers long enough to glare daggers at him before returning under them, this time with his pillow over his head.

"NSA has agreed. We're setting up the sting six am sharp. NSA is sending over the leader of the team that will be acting as the bad guys, I want both you and Trent in my office at that time so we can hash out the plan." Roper demanded.

"We'll be there." Gibbs said before hanging up and straddling Kort again to put his phone back on the charger. Kort growled, smirking he tore off the blanket over his lover's head and pushed Kort on to his back, straddling his waist, his hands resting on Kort's ribs he bent down ignoring Kort's protests and kissed him roughly. Smirking when he felt Kort biting his lips, his teeth gnashing against his.

"Gibbs I'm tired and not in the mood for this!" Kort hissed while biting at his neck and shoulders.

"Yeah, I know you're not. You're PMS'ing worse than my third wife." Gibbs said roughly, giving a hiss as Kort sunk his teeth in savagely, sucking up the blood that pooled into his mouth and ran down Gibbs' shoulder.

"Angry Trent?" He asked biting Kort's ear roughly leaving teeth marks.

"Pissed." Trent growled in his ear, his breathing harsh, eyes livid as he flipped Gibbs onto the mattress and towered over him. Kort began nipping and biting him, his hands moved roughly over Gibbs' body, pinching and scratching Gibbs gave as good as he got, making Kort hiss and sometimes even cry out in pain, however the pain did nothing to discourage either of them, it got them hotter and more involved, both fighting for dominance.

**WITH THE TRAITOR.**

He listened as his supervisor told them all the plan. He smirked, none of them knew, had any idea, who he was, who they were messing with. As if he couldn't see a trap when it was put out to capture him. The fools thought they had him, thought they knew who he was. They didn't know shit and they were going to pay for it--by losing an agent. Trent Kort was going down for everything he had done to him, every tear, every drop of blood, every bruise, every cut, everyday he had to live while his country was being torn to pieces because of him. One slip up of information--due to Kort stealing it--and it sent his home country into chaos until it slowly destroyed itself. Everyday he woke up, now an American citizen, and watched as his homeland duked it out with itself. Split in half, killing their own when they should be attacking America.

He would have no problem making Kort pay for his wrongs. Karma is a bitch.

**SIX A.M.**

The woman stood imposingly in Roper's office as he and Kort shut the door and took seats in front of the Director's desk.

"Gibbs, Kort, this is Rody Bradshaw." Roper said shrugging at the black haired, blue-eyed beauty with sharp features standing next to his desk.

"NSA boys." She said her voice sounding like a screeching violin.

"Yeah we figured that one out for ourselves."

"We're the smart kids in the class." Gibbs and Trent said at the same time.

"I thought we were going to have cooperation here Roper." She said looking disdainfully at both agents in front of her.

"Miss Bradshaw you do not run things around here I do. I call the shots. And I, also, decide what information and cooperation you get and how you get it. Is that clear?" Roper said sharply.

"Sparkling like crystal." She said flatly.

"Good. Now gentlemen the plan is this: four of her agents--one being the dealer and the other three his posse--are going to show up at the meet, we'll be monitoring all the calls and everyone here personally with our own eyes. The mole with undoubtedly try to get info from our data banks on how to contact the bad guys and then proceed to call them. Once the call is complete we got them." Roper said.

"And if they decide to lay low this time around?" he asked

"We'll keep trying." Bradshaw answered shortly.

"So the drop is tonight, everybody alright with this?" Roper said looking between Gibbs and Kort.

"I want to go in with." He said, his gut screaming that something was wrong.

"Not an option Gibbs." She said suddenly.

"Miss. Bradshaw did I not just state that I am the boss here?" Roper asked dangerously she nodded and went mute. "Why Gibbs?"

"I just have a bad feeling about this."

"I can take care of myself Jethro I don't need you protecting me and Mother henning me. I am your lover not your son." Kort snapped.

"I didn't say you couldn't, but you're not up against a known foe, he's hiding behind the CIA." He snapped back.

"I'm going with a group of federal agents!" Kort hissed.

Sighing he leaned in and whispered, "Nothing is as it seems. You know that Trent. This would be the perfect opportunity for the mole to sneak into the Op."

"It needs to be done either way."

"Which is why I should be there. An extra set of eyes can't hurt."

"Fine." Kort snapped, rolling his eyes he nodded at Roper.

"It's settled then. They go in as partners on this Arms dealers case. End of story." Roper said giving a malicious and evil smile to Rody as she stormed out.

Trent and Gibbs dismissed themselves.

**THAT NIGHT**

Gibbs couldn't explain the feeling he had, he didn't know why his gut was telling him not to trust the NSA but it was screaming at him that they shouldn't go. That they should call it off, usually he went with his gut, but something had Kort peeved throughout the day and he wasn't about to put him anymore on edge then Trent already was. He didn't need Kort's wrath, he had saw it once before and wished it upon nobody. He watched Trent out of the corner of his eye, his movements were sharp and clearly agitated, he couldn't go into a mission like this.

"Trent."

"What?!" Kort snapped angrily.

"What's been with you lately?" He asked softly.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Right. And I was happily married three times." sarcasm lacing his voice.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. You know you can't go on tonight like this." He said.

"I know. And I won't. Once I'm undercover I'll be fine. I'll be in my role. Not to worry. I just don't bother around you." Trent sighed.

He looked down, feeling slightly undone at Kort's comment before looking up again, "It still matters. I want to know what's bothering you?"

"I got called a faggot." Kort said turning away from him.

"When and where?!" he growled angrily, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Outside the restaurant when I was waiting for you. That couple next to us, came up to me and called me a faggot and said I was disgusting and a disgrace. They both spit in my face." Kort shrugged tensely.

He got up and put his hands on Kort's shoulders and started massaging him gently. "It's ok Trent. Some people are going to be like that."

"I know. It's why I've kept so quiet before. But it still doesn't make it any easier. I don't know why someone's words are getting me so bothered. It's not the first time I've been attacked verbally." Kort said angrily, now frustrated with himself.

"It's personal this time, something you yourself don't understand. Don't let their ignorance get under your skin. I think you are beautiful and I love you just the way you are. It doesn't matter what they think because you're mine. Understand?" He soothed wrapping his arms around Kort's waist from the back and pressing him against his chest. He put his face next to his and kissed him on the cheek.

"Understood."

He smirked as he felt Kort smiling, pulling away he pinched Kort's ass, ignoring his yelp he said, "That's mine too."

Smirking Kort put a gun in his pants and hid some knives, suiting up for battle, just in case.

"Come prepared one of the CIA's rules?" He aske raising an eyebrow.

"One of mine. Especially when the man I love is involved. Gonna have your six." Kort said, Jethro smiled at Kort's attempt to be protective when it wasn't anywhere's in the man's nature.

"I'll be fine Trent. It's you I'm worried about." He said gently.

"I can take care of myself too. But I'm still worried. You weren't suppose to be with us. I'm use to working by myself." Kort replied.

"I know. Don't worry everything will be fine." He tried convincing himself.

"What's that gut of yours say?"

"Something's not right." He swallowed nervously his gut churning.

"Me too. S'why I need you to be careful. I don't need you going getting yourself caught up in something that is meant for me." Kort said looking him dead in the eyes.

He was going to say something along the lines of 'let me worry about myself' until his phone rang with GPS coordinates. "We're on the roll! Let's go!"

Kort grabbed his jacket before throwing the car keys to him, grinning he got behind the wheel and sped off towards the docks. Kort yelled insanely, he was the only one that appreciated his driving skills.

**KORT'S POV.**

Getting out of the car, thankfully in one piece, which always surprised him since Gibbs drove like a maniac on fire; he scanned the place. Looking out for potential sniper spots, dark areas, the water, everything that surrounded the area he took in. He waited for their signal, just like Paul Revere's, a lantern in the top of the building would signal them to go onto the docks and then onto a yacht. Staying tuned into his surroundings, fingers resting on one of his many weapons, he watched the warehouse out of the corner of his eyes, seeing the flash of light, they set off side by side to the docks, the bad feeling chasing them all the way down, and the closer they got the bigger it grew. Till they were both shaken up and looking at each other, fear and uncertainy in both their eyes.

"Too late to get cold feet now. Let's go." Kort whispered harshly. As he jumped down on to the deck and walked onto the yacht, walking into the meeting room he smirked seeing the NSA rats jumping up to greet him.

"You are the CIA?" A nervous agent said

"Lemme guess computer geek?" Kort said.

"Yep. Best at NSA sir." He chirped smiling nervously.

"Probably the best in America." He patted the boys shoulder, watching him beam. It was almost too easy.

"Mr. Kort. Angelina Arman. Rebecca powers and Kory Degrassi." A woman in a red satin dress said. He nodded, raising an eyebrow at the guards lining the room. "For our protection. Just in case our mole tries to take a more direct approach."

"Right." Shifting closer to Gibbs he felt him wrap a hand around his forearm and squeeze almost painfully.

"So which one of you is it then?" he said bored.

"Which one of us is who?" She asked innocently, smiling in a sweet manner.

"The mole." He watched Gibbs trying to figure out, it was simple really.

"We don't know what you are talking about."

"Really perhaps this will remind you?" He said taking out his gun and pointing it at her forehead. She gasped and backed against the wall, he pressed the gun into her forehead enough to leave an imprint.

"One of you is the mole. I thought it was someone in my agency until I realized that that's not possible. We don't run our operatives names in front of everybody or even on the computer just in case of hackers, we give them a fake code name. So even if they found out about a mission they wouldn't have anything but a fake name that only they and those who created it would know. Not way of contacting them. However we have to tell you all our missions and the people on them, including names, so you know who not to take out. You almist killed the Frog. But you saw he was on our register. The only way someone would get that kind of information would be from you. So who is it? Tell me or I'm just going to start shooting." He seethed. Gibbs was pointing his two guns at the other two agents waiting for them to make a move.

No one spoke for a minute, and then chaos ensued, Angelina tried reaching for her weapon he shot her without hesitation, Gibbs shot the other two agents who went for their own guns, the guards along the wall came to life and before they knew it they were weaponless and fighting for their lives. They were down to three guards and the computer geek who had hid when the brawl began, Gibbs knocked out one but had neglected to completely knock out the other. He started raising his gun towards Gibbs, Trent saw Gibbs life flash before his eyes. Felt his heart freeze, his legs numbed, and his blood was pumping so loud it echoed in his ears, he saw the flash of light and dove in front of Gibbs. He felt the bullet impact in his stomach, it jered him back against Gibbs nearly toppling him. Gibbs swiveled and shot the man dead with his comrades weapon. That left one guard and the geek, unfortunately the guard had bolted and the geek was now aiming a pistol at him, his hand shaking.

**Gibbs.**

**He knelt down next to Trent after dropping his weapon and turned him over, blood was oozing out of the wound, he covered the burnt hole with his hand, applying the correct amount of pressure he cradled Trent in his arms. The man was unconscious, he tightened the arm around him and looked angrily up at the geek.**

"**What do you want?" He barked.**

"**Kort dead." he said coldly.**

"**Sorry, Can't give you that. I can give you a deal if you let us go. Or at least Kort." he spoke calmly even though he was screaming on the inside, panicking that the man he loved was slipping away from him. **

"**Oh no. Nothing means more than that man suffering. It's because of him my family is at war. He killed them all!" the geek roared.**

"**Killing Trent is not going to bring back your family." **

"**And talking to me isn't going to stop me from killing him!" **

"**Then go ahead. Kill Trent." He spoke softly, leaning back, showing him the dying man, ort was pale and trembling slightly, he unconsciously groaned in pain, his face was slack, his stomach bleeding. Just a hurting man. "A man just like you. Just like your family. Loved just as much. You kill him I kill you."**

"**That simple huh GibbS?"**

"**Oh yeah." **

"**More simple than that bastard." A voice said behind him, the man swiveled around just to get a bullet through the forehead.**

"**DiNozzo! What did I tell you about following us?!" He snapped.**

"**That it would be a good idea." Tony answered reaching for Trent's legs they carried him off the boat and onto the ground Tony called for an ambulance as he stayed with Kort, one hand on his abdomen the other on his forehead. "Come on Trent don't do this to me. Stay with me. If you think you are allowed to die protecting me you got another thing coming. Ask DiNozzo he'll tell you."**

"**No one is allowed to die. At all. Especially not for the bossman." Tony said nodding above them both.**

**Cradling Kort to his chest he kissed his forehead and his lips.**

"**Come on Trent hang in there. The medics are on their way. You'll be ok." He spoke soothingly to Trent, cradling the back of his head while putting his forehead on his. Sirens were blaring, the medics rushed Kort into the ambulance, he sat next to him in the van-like vehicle, his hand holding Trent's trying to keep him tethered in this world. Once at the hospital and Trent was out of surgery he sat by his bedside, hand in hand once more and sipped his coffee. **

"**I love you Trent. And you aren't going no where's cause you are mine. Got that? You will not die." he whispered kissing his forehead. Kort smiled when Gibbs turned his back, knowing he was n for the long haul and loving every second of feeling loved.**


End file.
